Closure
by AngelsLame
Summary: My post-"Chosen" story.  How it should have ended.
1. Chapter 1

**CLOSURE  
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**Rating** - K+

**Disclaimers - **Joss' toys, my playground.

**Notes** - This story was something I had to write. Joss had too many loose ends and not enough happy endings.

**Spoilers** - This story starts at the end of Season 7, after Chosen. Everything is as it was then with the following exception; Angel Investigations has not yet moved from the Hyperion to Wolfram and Hart headquarters, despite now running the firm.

* * *

><p><em><strong>DAY 1<strong>_

Feeling empty inside, Buffy rode towards Los Angeles in the back seat of the battered bus. Thanks to her Slayer healing powers, her cuts and bruises were already nearly gone. There was also something uniquely comforting to see those same healing powers in effect on the novice Slayers. Still, although she now shared her legacy, the events of the last 24 hours had left her emotionally numb and very, very alone

Lovingly the others had tried to draw her out. Even Xander, who was dealing with his own loss, cast her worried glances and half-hearted "you wanna share?" gestures. But it hadn't taken long for their attempts to fail and they had abandoned further tries more than an hour ago, contenting themselves that she just needed some "alone time" to gather her thoughts and that by the time they all got to the Hyperion, she'd come around.

There were suppressed gasps from several of the six remaining Potentials, a weak "Damn Rupert" from Wood, echoed rather more loudly by Faith, and a brief mumbled British apology from the driver's seat as the bus hit a pothole Buffy found herself comforted if not cheered by the familiar voices, spoken without hesitation and unhushed. She shook her head, amused to find herself feeling gratitude, feeling anything.

With familiar feelings came a raging thirst. She reached into the brown leather bag beside her, the pack of slayer weapons that together with the chest Xander had made for her, had been rescued from the late Summers' home on Revello Drive. Buffy felt a brief nostalgia for her mother's house, but it hadn't really been home for two years. Without her mother it had become lodgings, shared first with her friends, then the slayers in training, the witches, watchers, ex-henchmen and…and the sudden, unprompted reminder of his loss, Buffy dropped the water bottle she had retrieved from inside her kit. She lunged to attempt a catch it managing only to knock the whole bag to a noisy and inevitable conclusion. All eyes turned to her but, satisfied with the source of the din identified, the others turned away again, respecting the boundaries she'd set , Buffy slipped down between the green leather seats retrieving the familiar tools of her trade; stakes, holy water, knives, axes, which had scattered on the bus floor. She had collected only a handful of items and started to upright the bag when a square of paper fluttered to the floor. With a grunt of exasperation, she set the bag on the seat and threw in what she had collected. Reaching back for the paper, she recognized it immediately as an envelope from Dawn's stationary; a gaudy floral pattern that Buffy had chosen to give her little sister for her last birthday, an attempt to recognize her sister's maturity by replacing "Hello Kitty" with the remaining implements back where they belonged, she picked up the packet and caught Dawn's eye. With a questioning expression Buffy held up the envelope for her little sister to see. The teenager simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged. It wasn't from her. Turning it over she saw it was written in an unfamiliar hand. The strong, symmetrical strokes spelled simply "Buffy" and had a small flourish below, a sideways "S" with a couple of lines angled through it.A feeling of anticipation washed over her. She knew instinctively, although never seeing it before, that this was Spike's handwriting. She began to tremble, clutching the envelope to her chest, her breathing becoming ragged as a flood of memories from yesterday began to overwhelm her. Spike in her basement, waiting patiently for her as always. Spike in her arms, the feeling of his embrace, the comfort of his familiar scent. That damned leather duster. His flaming hand in her own before he begged her to let him finish it. At that last image a tear fell from her eye, its fall startling her back to the looked again at the envelope and ran her fingers over the ink, taking a moment to realize that this was one of the last things he had done and he had done it for her. "He must have written it last night after we…after I fell asleep," she thought. She flushed at the memory and brushed aside tears that had slipped down her trembling, she slid her finger under the flap, taking special care not to tear it, as though tearing it would somehow define his absence and make it more real. She unfolded the letter and quickly scanned the page. The penmanship was that of an educated man, the lettering carefully drawn by a tutored reluctance, she drew her eyes back to the top of the page, which began…_Dear Buffy,_

_Good. You are reading this. And if __you're__ reading it, know that wherever I am, I am now at ease, for it means that the battle is over, we won and that you are safe. Sure, it also means that __I'm__ not there with you to enjoy the victory, but I think we all knew that this time it was going to be me. Well, anyway, I knew. So I intend to do my best. I hope I made you proud, and that I finally died with dignity._

_From where __I'm__ standing as I write this, I can see you sleeping. God, __you're__ beautiful. Your hair is spread out on the pillow like liquid gold. __It's__ all I can do to not crawl back in next to you, to wrap my arms around you, to hold you and to beg the day not to begin. But tomorrow is our final battle, a battle which will come no matter what we do, and I am not frightened, but I am restless. I have a million thoughts right now, love. There are things I want to say to you but I __can't__ burden you tonight. You have enough on your mind. Still, there are certain things I want you to know , as always, I love you. Yes, I know, __I've__ said it before, but it is a startling truth considering who and what we are, and worth saying again. I. Love. You. _

_Second, I know you __don't__ love me. I know you have love in you Buffy; I see it, always have. I saw it when you kissed An… him the other night. A long-lost sparkle came back to your eye, a joy, an abandon that I have longed for you to share with me. __We've__ been enemies, allies, comrades, confidantes, friends, lovers. I have seen your anger, your fear, your frustration and your desire…but I never saw that glimmer in your eye for me. My __poet's__ heart aches for you to feel what I feel, but I knew it wasn't possible. My past is too sordid and your __Slayer's__ heart too wounded. _

_But tonight was different. Tonight, Buffy, I felt that you and I were equal at last. It was more amazing than I had ever dreamed. Even though you __don't__ love me, you came to me tonight not out of pity or simple desire. Not to forget or to hide. Instead you sought comfort and friendship, tenderness, respect and understanding. To have finally been able to share those things with you, if only briefly, was incredible. Buffy, we have shared so much more than most people ever have. Even love itself __can't__ guarantee that you will know each other as we have. I will carry the memory of tonight with me until the end of time._

_Do not grieve, love. __I've__ circled the dance floor and the band is about to stop. All the verses, the refrains have been sung. I am ready. I am at peace with myself although I feel that you and I held such unfulfilled promise. I wish __we'd__ had more time…_

_The last five years have been an amazing journey for me; from demon to a souled man once again. I __wouldn't__ have, __couldn't__ have, shared it with anyone else. No one else would have understood or cared. So now, one more thing, love; thank you. Thank you for caring, for fighting for me and with me, for inspiring me to reach for the best__of myself and for treating me like the man I__found I wanted to be all along. Each battle, every conversation, and experience, all of it has made me__into who I am.__Because of you and what __we've__ had, I can face __tomorrow's__ battle and __it's__ inevitable end. I know that sometimes death is just the beginning of a new adventure. You and I are both testament to that, love. I want you to know that even if, after __tomorrow's__ battle is over, I find myself wherever it is that we finally account for our past, I have hope. Hope that when the evils of my past are set on one side of the scales tipping them toward the damnation I deserve, the weight might be balanced, and may even lean my way a little, because you once cared for me._

_I once told you that one of us had to go on living. __It's__ still you. Live, Buffy. Find peace, someone to love, someone you care for, who cares for you and who makes you sparkle. Live, love, for both of us._

_Spike ~ William_

The sob that shook Buffy as she finished reading echoed through the bus. She crumpled the letter in her hands, trying desperately to crush it into oblivion. Even as her tears continued to fall, she could feel the anger mounting in her. "Damn him!" she shouted at the twisted ball of paper, "God damn him!" she yelled, as she flung the paper across the bus. "How dare he write such a letter? How dare he leave with such a load of…? How dare he leave me…." She choked on her words, and covered her face with her hands, overcome.

#####

Sharon laughed as she ran through the park. She felt stronger than ever, her speed top notch, her reflexes better. What had started out as a quick jog, however, tonight had looked as though it was going to get ugly. As she had turned a corner along the darkening pathway, she had encountered the largest, fiercest dog she had ever seen. Its withers were hunched, mottled auburn hair on end and razor sharp, yellow teeth bared.

Her heart had leapt to her mouth before she remembered her recent endowments. She turned off the path and broke away. She heard the dog growl menacingly behind her and begin to take chase, but she had outdistanced it and it was no longer behind her. She let up on her speed a little and laughed again, exhilarated. Life was good. She took one last look over her shoulder and ran smack into the tallest man she had ever seen. She bounced back and landed on her butt on the asphalt. "Oof, jeez man, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

The man didn't say anything, just looked down at her. He was GQ handsome from what Sharon could tell from her below-normal vantage point, but he wore a smile that made her skin crawl. "Well, sorry again," she began as she stood, brushing off her rear. The man let out a low whistle. Sharon looked at him her gut instinct now telling her to flee. She turned to run again but her first step never hit the ground. The huge dog had circled around and now lunged onto her back, its fangs sinking silently into the veins and arteries within her throat, taking her down like prey. There was no time for thought, much less a scream.

The dog did not release his grip as she fell, but rolled to the ground with his kill, savoring the blood that now gushed into his mouth. The man stepped forward. "Rouj," he commanded and seeming to read his master's mind, the dog stepped back, relinquishing his prize to his master. The man took a vial from his pocket and collected a specimen of blood dripping from the girl's throat. He then took out a knife and, leaning over his victim's head, collected a hank of hair. After a moment he hefted the dead body further back into the bushes out of sight. "She's all yours, Rouj," the man told the dog and he walked away, leaving the animal to steal into the bushes to impatiently devour the softest body parts ?" Willow asked as she sat in the seat in front of her best friend. Willow looked around; the others were still glancing back at Buffy awkwardly, concerned at her outburst, but afraid to venture too near the obviously distressed Slayer. It was up to her. She tried again, "Buffy?" Reaching out, the young witch touched her friend's shoulder in sympathy. "What is it? Can I do something to help?" Buffy shook her head, but continued to cry silently. Willow moved into the seat next to Buffy, placing the Slayer bag on the floor and taking her best friend into her arms. Willow might not know why yet, but Buffy was definitely grieving and needed comforting. "It's okay, Buffy. It'll be okay." Willow murmured a litany of soothing words that continued until Buffy's sobs had subsided and she finally fell asleep, exhausted, her head resting in Willow's lap.

As Buffy slept, Xander crept to the back of the bus, seating himself in front of the two women. Speaking softly he asked, "So? What happened?"

Willow shook her head and shrugged. Faith stepped up just then, "It probably had something to do with this," and she began opening the crumpled letter she'd ducked when Buffy flung it across the bus.

"We shouldn't read that, it's her private mail," Willow objected.

"But we need to know what it is so we can help her," Xander interjected, reaching for the letter.

"It's from Spike," Faith said matter-of-factly, opening it and glancing down to the signature at the bottom of the letter. Quickly she pulled the document out of Xander's reach.

"Spike?" Willow and Xander repeated, surprised.

"Sure. You two knew about them, right?"

"Well, yeah, sort of. I guess…not," Xander replied. "I mean they were together last year for a blessedly short while, but that was all over, wasn't it? He came back from wherever he was all wonky and she fussed over that for a while, but that was all. Right?" He looked to Willow for confirmation.

Willow nodded although she wondered. She didn't want to send Xander over the edge where the subject of Spike and Buffy usually sent him, but she suspected that Buffy had felt more deeply for Spike than any of them actually knew. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that the time Buffy had spent away from the group had not been spent entirely alone. With wide eyes Willow turned to Faith, "I think we should put that away for her. She may find she didn't want to get rid of it after all."

"Sure," Faith responded. Nodding she folded the paper as neatly as possible, tucking it into Buffy's bag. Faith looked into Willow's eyes and held her gaze. There was some understanding there. The dark-haired slayer knew there had been more between Buffy and Spike as well. She had come between them albeit briefly and had felt the undeniable power of their connection. "Well, I'm no good with this emotional stuff…" hesitating a moment, she added softly, "…yet." Willow smiled at the other Chosen One, she was really trying to care at last, to do what was right, and it was sweet in a "which universe is this" kind of way. "Well, I'm outta here," Faith mumbled as she turned away.

"Thanks," the witch answered and, with an awkward shrug, Faith walked back to the front of the bus where Robin sat, still nursing his wounds.

Xander sat looking mutely at Willow. "You didn't answer me, Wils. That thing with Spike and Buffy was all over with, right?"

"Yes, Xander," Willow answered solemnly, "_that_ thing was all over. I think they were dealing with something entirely new to both of them."

#####

Angel opened his eyes slowly. He thought that opening his eyes hurt, but when he tried to move he felt true gut wrenching agony. He rolled over onto his back and looked up into the starry night congratulating himself for managing the feat by taking a moment to watch the trees sway overhead. After a minute he managed to sit up and look around at the cemetery in which he had fallen. He knew this place. It was one of the more familiar L.A. city parks through which he patrolled regularly. His head hurt and he held it in his hands for a minute trying to remember how he had gotten here.

Running. That was it, he had been running to…no, from, something…no, someone. He had thought he'd heard, or rather, sensed something in the park. He had been very conscientious about following up on his hunches lately, what with the problems in Sunnydale. He was well aware that he was, as Buffy had put it, in charge of the second front. There were rumblings in the underground grapevine that something catastrophic had happened and rumors about girls becoming slayers, about volcanoes, bolts of lightning…you could hear just about anything from demons. The news media had covered what they had called 'the sinkhole that swallowed Sunnydale' but somewhere inside Angel he knew that she'd survived and he'd hear from Buffy soon. So he was trying not to think about the hole in the ground, trying to hold his 'line' and keep busy.

So, there he was patrolling, and he had run into it…him. The hulking man had stood a good 6" taller than Angel, and outweighed him by at least 50 lbs. His arms had a longer reach and, even with his vampiric strength, Angel was physically outmatched from the beginning. To make matters worse, a huge dog accompanied the giant and, before he knew it, they had both attacked Angel.

As he thought back to before the fight he remembered being asked to hand something over. The hulking stranger had been after something he thought Angel had. Ultimately the man had called off his dog with a firm command, releasing Angel and saying "Get it for me vampire, or next time you will not be walking away. You have two days. I'll be in touch." Angel shook his head to clear his mind and gather his thoughts, but, however hard he tried, he simply could not remember what the man had been asking for.

Slowly Angel stood up and found his balance. He brushed away a trickle of blood from his lip and staggered painfully home.


	2. Chapter 2

_**DAY 2**_

The dawn was just beginning to lighten the horizon when he threw open the door to the Hyperion. Fred, Gunn and Wesley were standing in the lobby, each with a mug of coffee in hand. Fred gasped, "Oh, my God!" and ran for the first aid kit. Gunn and Wesley turned toward the door, ready to stand and fight whatever had sent Angel home in such a condition.

"It's okay, boys. They're not behind me."

"Good," Gunn said with some relief. If Angel looked like this, he wasn't sure he wanted to meet why.

"You dispatched whatever did this then?" asked the dark-haired man.

"No, Wes. I didn't. I…I couldn't."

Just then, Fred came back armed with gauze and iodine. "Sit down here, Angel, let's clean you up and see how bad it is under there." She tore back the sleeve of his shirt and gasped at the scratches the dog's claws had raked across Angel's arm.

As she administered to him, they listened to Angel's story, such as it was. "I'm afraid that's all I remember. He wanted something that I didn't have, but that he seemed to believe I could get for him. I wish I knew what it was he wanted so I could bait him into another fight." The others stared at him. "If I knew he was coming and could get rid of that animal, I could beat him. Probably."

Wes was taking notes. "What did he look like? I need a description to see if I can find him in a database."

Searching his memory for a description of the man, Angel had to admit he could only say handsome. He had short-cropped, dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, giving him an air of authority and experience. His voice had been deep and full and if it hadn't been a threat, Angel would have said the voice was soothing, resonant, almost hypnotic. He had worn a well-fitted set of chocolate brown trousers with polished dress shoes and a matching cashmere turtleneck that had covered his well-defined torso like a second skin. Fred got a dreamy look on her face as Angel finished this remarkable description.

"And I got the impression," Angel added, "that this 'Adonis' doesn't take well to being… disappointed."

Fred came to and coughed, packing away what was left of the medicine kit. "I'm afraid I still don't do a field dressing as well as Cordelia," she apologized, blushing.

"It's fine," Angel answered softly. "She'll show you the finer points when she…when she… gets back." Angel was still amazed how much he wanted for that to be true, and ashamed that he hadn't realized how much the loud brunette had meant to him until she had fallen into that coma.

"And the dog? What did it look like?" Wes probed.

"Huge. Reddish brown. Shaggy. Strong. Had amber eyes. There was blood on his breath, fresh, human, and…no, had to be human. Amazingly strong. More a wolf than a…He called it 'Rouj' when he stopped it from ripping out my throat. I got the impression…," his voice faded.

"What?" Fred asked.

"It was like Rouj was a partner instead of a servant, like it did things for the master only because he felt like it. And boy, did he feel like killing me…"

"You have no idea what it is the man was searching for?" Wes asked, changing the subject gently.

Angel shook his head. "No. All he said was that I could get it and he wanted it."

"Well, I'd say we find it then, if it's so important," Gunn interjected.

"It's not much to go on, but I'll see what I can do. See if you can remember what 'it' is, Angel." Wes stood up and left the room for his books and internet connection.

"Meanwhile, I'll get some sleep, and maybe you two can see what you can find on the street? Buffy's still missing and I can't find a clear trail to any information about Sunnydale. Maybe you can scare up something on my handsome maniac attacker too." He looked pointedly at Fred, frowned and went off to his room to sleep the sleep of the wounded and worried.

#####

Buffy awoke from the nap her exhausted body had demanded. She had found her head lying in Willow's lap and it was good to know that there was still someone who loved her. It was near dawn now, the world outside was dark and dreamlike and it was a time when she would have reached out to someone else, if he had been there. She knew that Willow would balk, but after mulling it over for a while, Buffy decided she had little option, she had to ask. She called out, "Wil?". The redheaded witch had fallen asleep consoling her best friend. "Wil?" Buffy called again softly, unwilling to disturb the others although she wasn't even sure that Willow could hear her over the rumble of the bus.

Willow stirred and blinked. "Huh? Buffy? Hi. Sorry, I must've... You okay?"

Buffy nodded and sat up. She looked at Willow, "No more tears. Sorry I fell apart like that." Her eyes shown brightly even in the dim illumination of the bus' emergency lights.

"No, Buffy, that's okay. I get it, I think. I know how it is to lose someone you care about."

Buffy leaned closer and spoke conspiratorially, "Willow, I want you to do something for me."

"Sure, sweetie. Anything. What is it?" she whispered in return.

"Bring him back."

Willow stared at Buffy for a minute, not sure if she'd just heard her best friend ask her to resurrect her dead vampire lover for her. One look at Buffy's burning eyes, though, and Willow knew it was true.

"Please, Wils?" Buffy begged. "It can't end like this. I have to…I have to know if he was right."

"Buffy, I…," Willow faltered.

"If he doesn't come back, I'll never know if what I said was true. I'll never know if I loved him. Really loved him." Buffy's voice was now strained and desperate. She took Willow's hand and held it tightly.

Wincing with the strength of Buffy's grasp, Willow struggled to stay calm. Taking a deep breath she began, "Buffy, I don't think I can do that." Then she looked into wounded eyes of her best friend, "I mean, I might be able to, but…well, I don't think I should."

"Why not? Willow, I need this. I never ask…Okay, yeah, I ask you all the time. But I need this…I need you to bring him back so we have time. Time. Just for us. Time for me to understand. To find out if…," her voice trailed away. Tears threatened to fall again and Willow hesitated, unsure.

"No." Rupert Giles stood in the aisle of the bus, supporting himself by holding onto the seat handles. Leaving Kennedy to drive, Giles had chosen to join the two women in conversation. "Buffy, you know we cannot do that."

"I could probably…" Willow began, but Giles continued, unfalteringly.

"Meddling with life and death is something we should not do, cannot do, again. It may be a power that you do possess, Willow, but it is one which stems from the darkest magic. She must not use it, not for herself, not for Tara, not for you." He reached out and layed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, "It had horrific repercussions last time and most assuredly will do so again."

Buffy knew, deep down, that what her ex-watcher said was true. It had been Spike himself who had told them repeatedly that magic always had consequences. Blinking back her desperation, she sat up and turned her face to the dark window, withdrawing into herself, looking for some small part of her that didn't hurt.

#####

Late that afternoon, as Angel lay still recovering in bed, as Gunn and Fred were out tracking down leads and Wes was tucked away in the study, the doors to the Hyperion burst open. Xander was the first in, leading what was left of their ragtag team; Faith, supporting Wood, Andrew, Giles, Kennedy, half a dozen half-trained slayers, into their new sanctuary. Buffy took up the rear.

"Anybody home?" Xander called out loudly, ringing the bell on the counter top. "Anybody?"

"Who is it?" came an English voice from a back room.

"Wesley?" Rupert answered. "Is that you?"

Quick steps came down the hallway toward them. "Giles? Willow? Xander? We've been worried sick about you all. Where have you been? Faith? What happened?" then, taking in the wounded, "Come in. Come in. Buffy? Sit down. What do you need?"

Rupert was a little taken aback by the effusive reception, but it was a welcome greeting nonetheless. "Thank you, Wesley, we knew to count on Angel Investigations."

"Glad you came, Rupert," the vampire answered as he ran down the stairs to the lobby.

"Dead boy! What truck ran over you?" Xander called in greeting.

"Nice eye patch," Angel replied.

After they had all been seated, tended to and water had been distributed, those questions were all answered, but others remained.

#####

In a small, old apartment in a dark part of LA a very wizened, little man sat wrapped in a heavy robe, his small frame bent diligently over a microscope. He spun his chair away from the lens with a chuckle, "Yes. Yes! This is wonderful!" He removed his spectacles, massaging the bridge of his nose in thought. "It's true."

A voice thrummed from the shadows, "Tell me what you mean, old man."

"When I heard the rumor, I thought it impossible…but it's true. The Slayer has somehow imparted her legacy on all girls. The blood of the young lady your dog…"

"Rouj," the man corrected. The dog raised its head at the sound of his name.

Undeterred, the little man continued, "…yes, Rouj…killed tonight, has the proper chemistry. It is Slayer blood."

"The first component."

"Yes!"

"And the others?"

"Well, the next element is proving more difficult just now, but I am making inquiries."

"Yes, yes, so you tell me."

"The final part is the power source itself. You made the contact, Magistericos? Have you discovered the whereabouts of Naillig's Crown?"

"Its location is unimportant. I have discovered the man…or rather, vampire…who will find it for us."

"As you say. But it is necessary. Without it we fail. It will hold the source and symbol of your power. It must be soon, however, the time approaches, the charts are very clear on the time."

#####

Buffy sat silently as everyone exchanged greetings. There were tales of heroics and tears for friends lost, but she still felt adrift. As the others went out to gather their meager belongings out of the bus but Buffy was content to sit and stare into space.

"Uh, Buffy?" Angel asked with concern as he sat down next to her. She did nothing to acknowledge his presence. "Buffy?" he called again, taking her hand gently.

She managed a faint groan.

"Buffy, come on. You need to snap out of this. The battle's over. You won. That's good. Remember?"

Buffy turned her head and stared at Angel in silent disbelief. Hadn't he just heard about the price they had paid for this victory?

"Buffy, where do you want your things?" Kennedy called out from the doorway.

Angel responded, "Room 102," and turned back to Buffy. "Okay, I know this was hard. You lost some good people. But we still need you. Buffy, look at this." He pulled the dressing off the four gashes that Rouj had left on his arm earlier that day. He hadn't told any of the Scoobies about his encounter in the park as they exchanged the Sunnydale news, but Buffy needed a reason to reconnect. "This dog was strong. It had killed a human, a girl, a slayer, and we need to find it and its master before it happens again."

Buffy turned wide, sad eyes toward him, "Sorry," she said softly. "I don't do slayage anymore. There are others to do that now and I don't have to."

"But Buffy, you have the experience, you know things, you should stay and train the new girls. You should…."

"I should! I SHOULD?" she shouted. "Don't tell me what I _should_. That's all I've done for seven years and I'm tired of it. As far as I'm concerned, there's no 'I should' anymore. No more "Chosen One". There are others. I can walk away anytime. I'm get getting my bearings and then I'm outta here. I'm going to my room." Buffy stalked out of the lobby and down the hallway, Kennedy and her bags in tow.

The others wandered in, taking their bags into the hotel and separating into rooms as they chose: Faith and Wood, Kennedy and Willow. The young slayers chose to room together, used to the dorm feel of Buffy's house and uncomfortable with the idea of being alone. As they were settling in, Gunn and Fred made themselves useful in the kitchen, putting together a quick meal for their co-workers and a table full of unexpected guests.

#####

As they came back together for supper, the gang seemed more relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years. Kennedy and Willow were holding hands under the table; jokes and sarcasm were flying good-naturedly around the room. They were obviously enjoying the first stress-free moments any of them had known for months, with no apocalypse hanging over their heads.

The new Slayers introduced themselves officially to the group. "We have names, you know."

"Who knew when I stepped off that bus, what I was walking into?" Rona asked rhetorically. "Everythin' that's happened, it's unbelievable."

Vi, the tall redhead who had been so reticent before spoke up. "I'd never even heard of a Slayer until a few weeks ago. But it is exciting. Hellmouths, vampires and demons, oh my."

Shannon laughed. "Monsters were only in my nightmares before, but I know they're real enough now. And I know I can kill one."

"Yep, it's excitin' and all," Becca chimed in, "but I'm ready to go home."

The all agreed and even though she didn't understand all of it Chao-Ann understood the word "home" and nodded.

"Yep, you girls with family, should beat it out of here ASAP," Rona added. "I may just stick around, though. To see what's gonna happen next."

Lorne arrived with supplies and was introduced to everyone as the empathetic, good kind of demon. Soon, with his help and encouragement, the wine began to flow. As everyone began to ease into their new surroundings, the party began to increase in volume. Giles excused himself like a good grownup and went to check on the sleeping form of Cordy in one of the upstairs rooms. Wesley followed.

"Such a shame," Giles whispered to the younger watcher as they entered Cordy's room.

"Yes, it is." The brunette vampire had quietly slipped away earlier and was sitting quietly in the darkened room.

"Angel?" Giles asked, startled.

"Sorry, old man, just sitting here, waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

The vampire considered this. Was he waiting to say he was sorry? Waiting to tell her the secrets of his heart? Waiting to see if she awoke more human or more demon or which was worse? "Don't know yet," he replied wearily, and lapsed back into silence.

Giles turned to the younger Englishman, "You've found nothing that can help? Have you looked in the…."

"We've all looked everywhere, Giles. There is nothing…except…."

"Yes?"

"Well, there was an oblique reference to something called The Crown, which 'restores the strength of those who possess it' or, well, something like that."

"You make it sound like an energy drink."

Wesley smiled. Giles had certainly eased up since they first met. Well, so had he. He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and they both looked at Cordy again. "Shall we see if we can mix her up one?"

"What will happen if she returns? Wasn't she a demon…er, a demon's mother…or rather a…"

Angel answered him, "Cordelia will always be Cordelia. She was a cheerleader, an actress, a princess of another dimension, a secretary, a prima donna, a woman, a demon, a mother, infuriating, frustrating, irritating and self-opinionated, but she has been, and will always be, Cordelia Chase. At least I hope she will be. Because, gentlemen," Angel stood to leave the room and finished speaking as he passed the two Watchers without looking at them, "I love her."

Unsettled, but not exactly surprised by Angel's statement, Wesley started to speak, "But what if we can't…."

Pausing his steps, Angel spoke softly, "She and I are both immortal, we have all the time in the world. So, I will be here until I can tell her how I feel, even if the waiting outlasts you, or your children, or your children's children." The two Watchers chilled at the veiled threat and Angel turned around to look at them. "Come now, boys, I have all the faith in the world in you two. I have to, you're all I've got…all she's got."

A short while later the two men were in the office where Wesley had laid out the volumes they were studying to find a cure for Cordelia on a side table, the center table now occupied with books on dogs, wolves and large, strongmen. After showing Giles the passage about The Crown, they each began their own thought process, picking out different volumes and settling into separate chairs. After about an hour of reading, during which the party noise had bumped up another notch, Wes suggested retiring with a cup of tea. Both men picked up the books they had in front of them and headed for the kitchen.

#####

With the big man and his dog gone, the room seemed much larger. Doc leaned back in his easy chair sipping daintily at a snifter of brandy. He hadn't wanted to move to LA, his flat in Sunnydale had been cozy and warm, but he had had to follow his opportunities. Singing softly to himself, he ran a forked tongue over his lips. He was getting too old for this. But if all went well, this would be his last campaign. After this he would be back in his own dimension, safe and sound and in charge. But, he thought fleetingly, he would miss brandy.

#####

The party broke up early. Everyone was worn out by the recent events and the long journey and ready for bed…everyone, except for Kennedy, who had had that one drink too many. "Where are you all going? The night is young. We are the victors…," she paused and sniggered, "or, in some cases, the Victorias. Let's enjoy it!"

Walking up to her partner Willow laid her hand on her arm and said, "Kennedy, I think we're all just tired. It's been a long haul."

Kennedy laughed loudly and repeated, "long haul" with obvious innuendo. Then weaving dangerously and with her finger held to her lips she added, "Not for us though, huh?"

Willow looked with embarrassment at the others who returned questioning looks. Flushed the witch started to explain, "She's just a little… well, you know …."

"Tipsy? Sauced? Plotzed? Drunk?" one of the younger women suggested.

"Hell, yeah," Kennedy confirmed. "We have a right to it. Don't we?" She leaned heavily on Willow and spoke too closely.

The redhead nodded, "Of course we do." She put her shoulder under Kennedy's and slipped an arm around her. "Let's just go to bed. We'll all feel better tomorrow."

"Another party tomorrow? But you still won't join in, will you? You'll still be an ol' stick-in-the-mud. A fuddy-duddy. Wishy-washy Willow." Kennedy amused herself and nearly pulled them both over with her ensuing fit of giggles.

"Are you sure she's okay?" Xander asked. "I've never seen her like this before."

"Me either," Willow replied, with some shame for her partner's behavior. Adjusting her load she began to lead Kennedy back toward their room. "This isn't like her at all."

Fred stepped up and grabbed the other side of the unwieldy Kennedy. "I'll help you," she offered Willow.

"Oh, goodie, a threesome!" Kennedy cackled, leering at Fred. "A fantasy come true."

Just as she said this, Giles and Wesley returned from the kitchen with their tea. "How 'bout it English?" she confronted the older man. "Wanna take us all on? Always been a fantasy for you too, I'll bet. All men want a ménage a something…"

"She's drunk," Willow said quickly. "I'm sorry. She's not herself."

"Nasty drunk," Xander muttered too loudly.

"That's _your_ fantasy, loser," Kennedy mouthed off. "You're the lousy drunk, remember?"

Xander looked from Kennedy to Willow with a raised eyebrow, Willow had to have been the source of the younger woman's knowledge about his relationship with Anya. "Willow," Xander lowered his voice. "Take your friend to bed before I…"

"Before you what, Columbo?" Kennedy countered brashly, gesturing to Xander's eye patch. "Think you can take me on, do you?"

Xander took a step in her direction but somehow Willow and Fred managed to hold Kennedy back as she swayed towards their one-eyed friend. "That's enough," Willow sternly told the younger woman and the three of them left the room.

Giles and Xander exchanged glances.

"She's just unwinding. We're all a little giddy," one of the other Slayerettes explained.

"There's giddy… and then there's mean," Lorne spoke from behind the bar. "That was mean."

#####

When the sun set the next day, Doc found his newest client pounding on his door and, with his strength, pounding was not far from splintering. "Hang on, hang on!" Doc yelled, pulling on his smoking jacket and knotting the belt hastily. He reached the door and withdrew several locks before swinging it open. "Yes, Magistericos?"

"I've brought you more blood." He cheerfully handed several bottles of blood to the scientist.

"Oh," the older man replied. "Well, thank you. Why so much?"

"You said we'd need a great deal. Thought I'd get a start on it."

"Yes, I did. You are right, Magistericos. But perhaps I forgot to mention that it must be _fresh_ blood. I'm sorry; I won't be able to use this. We are nowhere near ready to do the ritual and, well, as I said, it must be fresh." The little man looked up at the larger one with all of the confidence of an immortal.

"Oh." Magus took a moment to consider this wrinkle. After a moment he found a solution that satisfied him, "Okay, I'll just keep it then, for Rouj."

"Yes. Do. He'll enjoy it. A just reward for his kills," Doc nodded, handing the vials back to the larger man.

Magus smiled proudly, "He deserves it. Five last night!"

"Five? Well, well," Doc did his best to sound properly impressed.

"And, of course, the hair will be used," the larger man continued proudly.

Doc smiled serenely then he offered his client some good news, "There is something to tell you, Magistericos. The second piece of our puzzle has appeared, right here in Los Angeles."

The taller man raised his eyebrows. "Really? Good. Very good!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**DAY 3**_

The next day, the former Slayers-In-Training, Gunn and Lorne took on new tasks like cleaning out the bus, shopping and planning a schedule of other housekeeping chores. The girls were getting excited about going home, and wanted to put things in order for them to leave.

Splitting up the research tasks between them, the rest of them sought information on Angel's new opponent and for anything on The Crown. The Book Brigade, as they had dubbed themselves, had been hard at work all day. Angel had chosen to do his study at Cordy's bedside while Dawn, Angel, Wes and Giles were in the office. Willow had left Kennedy still snoring from her late night outing to join Fred, and Andrew, using every available computer terminal or laptop to help.

They had searched through nearly every volume in Angel Investigation's extensive library, and run through the 20,000 links Google had returned when they typed in "large male murderer with dog". No one was finding anything significant. But everyone was becoming frustrated.

They had just started a second round with the books and a new search, "crown +recuperative", when, at 6 pm, Giles slammed his hand down on his book. "Aha!" he barked. The whole room jumped, then Dawn recovered first. "Geez, Giles. Give a girl a coronary! You found something?"

Giles looked at her triumphantly and began by prefacing, "Well, it's written in Latin, but basically it says that the secret of The Crown of Strength lies within Sauchen."

"Sauchen?" Wesley whistled. "Of course, I knew it was familiar."

"Sauchen?" Angel repeated. "What's that?"

"It's a who," the younger watcher explained, "Sauchen told cryptic fairy tales for the children of the tribal leaders in central Africa about 2,000 BCE. The stories were rumored to be prophetic. But over time the oral histories of the area were wound through the original stories confusing prophecy with current events. Untangling the original stories from the retelling is a lifelong pursuit. One teacher of mine gave me one of the shorter tales to complete as my year-end exam. I've never forgiven him."

"Is there a translation of the Crown's original fable then?" Dawn asked. "Or do we have to travel back in time to discover the secrets we need?"

"Actually, there is one translation of 'Naillig's Crown'." Everyone looked at Giles. "It's in my flat in London." He smiled at Wesley, "I rather enjoyed Professor Rivits' class."

"Oh, Giles," Willow admonished. "What good is it doing us there?"

"I'll have my notebook here in 24 hours. Angel, may I use your phone?"

#####

Alan hung up the phone with Giles and took a deep breath. It had been hell waiting while the battle raged in Sunnydale, not knowing the outcome or who were the survivors. But Giles had been right, there was nothing he could have done to stop the inevitable, and his presence would have only confused matters and made things worse.

Still, he regretted the decision to stay in London. Especially now that he knew the losses. He was young and healthy, he might have helped. But it was over and now there was apparently some new mystery and Giles needed a book, of course, sent to him. Glad to have something to do and with only a briefest of hesitations, he picked up the phone to reserve a seat on the next flight to California. He'd take the book to his employer personally.

#####

Buffy wanted to go for a walk, but beyond all laws of probability, it was raining that night in LA. Driven back in with no compelling reason that she HAD to go out, since patrolling wasn't necessary, she wandered back toward her bed. On her way, she passed the open door of the room where Cordy lay. The room was dark but Buffy could see Angel's silhouette against the dim light at the window. He sat leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, his elbows on his knees. He looked as though he was ready to stay there all night and suddenly Buffy realized that that's exactly what he had been doing for quite a while.

Buffy hesitated, unsure whether or not to intrude, when he spoke, "Sometimes I come in and just watch her breathe and wonder if she knows I'm here."

"I'm sure she knows," Buffy replied to the brooding vampire. "Cordy always knew when someone was looking at her, she loved the attention."

Angel gave Buffy a smile and turned back to the woman sleeping in the bed. "You'd be surprised, Buffy. Cordy's changed since she came to LA."

Something stirred in Buffy. There was tenderness in Angel's voice as he spoke about Cordelia. One that she recognized. One that had once been hers alone. She felt the jealousy rise in her throat and commanded it back with reason until her voice bristled only slightly, "So I heard, princess, mother, possessed…"

At her change in mood, Angel's face clouded. "That's not what I meant," he interrupted, his voice low.

Buffy was shaken. She'd heard him use that tone before, but never with her. "I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean…."

"She means a lot to me, Buffy. I thought that, of all people, you might understand how tragic it is to lose people you care about."

Buffy stepped backwards into the hallway and turned toward her room without a word, Angel's words ringing in her ears. Enumerating her losses had not been on the agenda for this evening. In the two days since the apocalypse, Buffy had carefully withdrawn from the world. She still moved within it but was sheltered by a self-imposed zone of indifference, free from caring and pain and loss and as long as she didn't think about the past, she didn't miss the things she had found there, friendship, compassion, love. She reached her room just as the cocoon she had spun around herself began to unravel.

That night, as she slept, Buffy spoke to her lover in her dreams. She heard herself say it again, "I love you."

"No you don't, but thanks for saying it."

The horrible scene at the end repeated over and over. She'd left him there, alone. She'd confessed her deepest emotions and he'd not believed her, she wasn't sure she believed herself. Tears streamed down her face as she begged him again. "Please, Spike. I love you. Please don't die."

Then it was dark. Silent. She stood watching, waiting until she heard a match strike and the room came to life. She saw herself lying down, naked between layers of fabric. She was cold, but not alone, not here. It was Spike's crypt, the bed where they had… "C'mon, love. Stay with me tonight."

She heard herself say it, just as she had then, "No Spike, I told you, I can't stay. I have patrolling, and Dawn…"

Spike turned back from the candle toward the prone Buffy, and slipped his arms tenderly around her. Both Buffys felt the sensation of being pulled toward him, his muscles tightening into an embrace. But whereas the one that watched welcomed his gentle touch, the other shrugged him away. "I said no, Spike."

The blond vampire lifted his arms to release the protesting Slayer, but tried again, "But pet, your house is full of people to care for Dawn. I'd be worried m'self otherwise. And we patrolled together just hours ago. So c'mon and stay."

The Buffy in the room began to get dressed, ignoring his protests, concerning herself with everything except him, everything except recognizing their relationship for what it was. When he reached out for her one last time, she'd decided to hurt him. "I don't love you. This is…just what it is."

Spike pulled back his arms and let her go as though she'd struck him. "Oh, we're playing that tune again, are we?"

As she watched, Buffy remembered saying the words, knowing they were lies. They were meant to stop him from getting close, from allowing her to get close, allowing her to be hurt, again. And as she watched, distanced now by time and dimension, she knew just how obvious her lies had been. Spike knew the routine and rolled onto his back in the bed and laced his fingers under his tousled hair with a resigned smile. "Right then, that's it for now. But you'll be back."

"Never." Another lie.

"Someday…" he called out after the retreating Buffy but she wouldn't stop. The steel door that let outside slammed loudly upstairs before the remaining Buffy heard him finish, "Someday you'll stop lying to me and to yourself and admit you love me. 'S'alright, though, I'm not going anywhere, I can wait you out."

"You knew I was lying?" The vampire's eyes sought out the other Buffy as she spoke.

"Slayer, you were good at a lot of things, but lying and deception…," Spike shook his head and reached for his pants.

"You always could read me, couldn't you Spike?"

"Yep, luv, like a book." The man she'd loved stood and padded bare-footed across the stone floor until he stood before her. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and laid her head on his chest. "Preferred the Braille version, though."

A laugh spilled unbidden from her lips and she reached her own arms around his slender waist. Feeling again the chiseled muscles of his back, cool skin under her warm hands. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

"It would have been like this?" Buffy wondered out loud. "You and me?"

"Better, Buffy. Better than anything you can even dream."

Silent tears streamed from her eyes. "I was an idiot, Spike. Foolish, maniacal, oblivious, stubborn, a…what you said."

"Bitch?"

"Yeah, that."

"Hey, you're talking about the woman I love."

"If you love me then you were more of a foo…," but she didn't finish. His lips were on hers and her mind was swept away in a whirlwind of old passions and new freedoms. She felt herself letting go, admitting to all the emotions, accepting his offer of love for what it was and finally cherishing it. When their kiss broke, she struggled to catch her breath.

"See?" He grinned. "No sparkles yet, luv, but definitely better."

Buffy stood within his embrace. She stood there in a dream where time had no meaning, where there were no vampires, no demons, no Apocalypses, no Watchers or Slayers. In her dream there were only two young lovers in each other's arms. A normal man and a normal woman discovering the tentative intimacy of sharing souls.

Still, even here, where all seemed idyllic, Buffy balked. She had packed away her emotions with her childhood dreams to be treasured, but forgotten because living daily with what might have been had become too painful. She faced the honest passion of the man before her and Buffy Summers knew it was time to reopen old wounds, knew that Spike was the only one strong enough to help her bear her pain and that the love he carried for her would help her begin to heal. He was, after all, her champion.

"Can I tell you something, Buffy?" She nodded. "I used to fear the future. I hid from it all the time. Bloody 'ell, being a vampire is all about fearing what's round the next corner or existence. Immortality is a proven way to avoid the future. But you changed that in me."

"I did?"

"Sure did. With you 'round I couldn't wait to see what would happen next. There was potential. I wanted to meet each day with you, face them together, come what may. I'll miss that the most, I think."

"No." Buffy didn't like where this was going.

"But you can do it for us, Buffy. You have to. You have to hold your head up and face the future for us both."

Turning her face up to his to protest, she felt dizzy, his image was wavering in the light, as though caught in a candle flame. She could feel him slipping out of her grasp and grew desperate. "Stop saying that, I can't. It's always left to me to carry on. To live in the world, to be the one who is living. Spike, please. I can't do it anymore. I'm tired, I'm lonely. I'm not even needed. Let me come with you, to your future."

"No, love that can't be. But Buffy, I know you, remember? You're strong. You can do this. Sure there's pain, but there are rewards too. Even I got one of those. I had you."

"Wait!" screamed the dreaming Buffy frantically. "No! Stop! Damn it, you swore you'd never leave me. You swore. You swore."

Her eyes flew open to strange surroundings. Before she could remember where she was she heard a voice at the door, and a gentle rapping. "Buffy? Are you all right? The door is locked. Buffy?"

"Willow?" Things were coming back to her now. The Hyperion. L.A..

"Buffy? Are you OK? I heard your voice. You were...screaming."

"Yeah, Wils, I'm fine. Just a bad dream." She listened until Willows steps retreated from her door and then lay back in an empty bed to weep for the lack of sparkles.

#####

As the rest continued researching the Crown, Buffy spent the next day training with anyone she could find, the potentials, Gunn, even Andrew. She wasn't particular, any victim would do. After her dream last night, the frustration and pain she had felt over Spike's loss, were now becoming anger; an anger which was getting harder and harder to control. The workout didn't improve her mood, but her spirit was coming around slowly.

Everyone was in the mood for a less raucous evening the next night. With at least one clue uncovered and on its way, they intended to relax. The dinner dishes finished, Wes and Giles took up residence in the library again and everyone else found a place to sit in the main lounge, reading or chatting quietly about the future none of them had ever assumed they would have.

"Okay, well, I'm headed out." All eyes turned to Kennedy as she walked through the lobby. "I'm going to check out the nightlife around here. Anybody with me?"

"We thought we'd all stay in tonight," Willow stood and approached her partner. "Why don't you stay here?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Willow," Kennedy replied quietly and with a caress of her lover's cheek, "You're so sweet, but I've just got an urge to go out and do something fun. Raise the roof with some normal people tonight, well, normal like you and me normal. There's somewhere only a few blocks away, Lolita's. Come with me?"

Willow looked around, everyone else had looked away, no one had heard the invitation to the gay bar, but no one made a move to join Kennedy's expedition. "I really don't feel comfortable in those…places. We could cuddle up with a good book in front of the fire."

With one last pity-filled look at Willow, Kennedy shrugged. "Alright then, like I said, I'm headed out. See all of you later," and the young woman strode purposefully out of the hotel. Desolately Willow walked back to her seat and picked up her book.

After Kennedy left, the mood of the room became somber. Buffy was the first to make a move. She stood and walked over to her friend, laying a hand on her shoulder she asked, "Are you okay Wils?"

"Sure," the witch replied, "I'm good. I mean, this is good. We've all be wound pretty tight and, well, we all relax differently. Right? Some people paint, or read, or…" Willow floundered, trying to find acceptable excuses for Kennedy's behavior. It tore at Buffy's heart when Willow looked up at her with tears brimming in her eyes. Loss was hard bear no matter the cause.

Buffy hugged her best friend to her. "She'll be back, Willow. She will."

#####

After an hour or so of reading, Wes rubbed his eyes and reached for the radio. He fiddled with the dials and ran across a news station. He was about to move on when the words caught his attention. "…inion Institute brought this alarming statistic with them to the White House today."

Something in the tone of the newscaster caught his attention and he paused as the story began to unfold. "The death and injury rate for young girls throughout North America has jumped dramatically over the last three days. The nationally recognized research firm first recognized this disturbing pattern while running reports on a recent study they had already been conducting within that demographic.

"Mr. James Rierdon of the National Opinion Institute: _In this case we were doing a paid study on teenage recklessness. The study parameters were to collect data from fifteen metropolitan areas over a period of three months. We had completed the first two months and were beginning the final phase this week. The third phase included a comparison over the three-month period and yesterday we began running those reports. Although the statistics for teenage males were within predictable ranges, as you can see in the chart behind me, the catastrophic and fatal injury rate within the female sector of this demographic has quadrupled since a similar period only a month ago. _

"Mr. Rierdon went on to report that although the rate of injury has increased, the recovery rate and time has mysteriously altered as well. _Fatal injury is defined by a team of experts as __'irreparable__ damage caused by outside force; self-inflicted, accidental or __intentional'__. These injuries have increased by 400% as __I've__ already indicated. Our study, however, also reveals that, although the injuries within this category have increased, the recovery levels have increased remarkably and recuperation from such injuries, considered inconceivable just last month, is now commonplace, again apparently only within this demographic._

"As yet there are no guesses as to the cause of this mystery. Our on-the-town reporter took this afternoon to speak with several teenage girls at the East Side High School.

Reporter: Girls, you've heard the report. What seems to be going on? Felicia?

Felicia: Uh, well, it's funny. The last few days we've all been noticing certain changes. We're all feeling stronger, more…sure of our selves…

Girl 2: Confident.

Girls: _General consensus._ Yes, that's it.

Reporter: Why is that?

Girls: _Uncertainty_ We don't know.

Felicia: It's great though. We feel like we could do anything.

Girl 2: We CAN do anything!

Felicia: I jumped off the top of this building earlier today.

Reporter: Felicia has indicated her school's three-story high gymnasium. But you couldn't have…

Girls: _Confirming. _She did. I saw her. I was there.

Felicia: But I did and look at me. Not a scratch.

Reporter: And you all feel this way?

Girls: _General agreement, murmurs._

Reporter: Have the rest of you tested these new found…um…powers?

Girls: _General agreement, murmurs._

Girl 3: I rode my bike in a race against my brother on his motorcycle yesterday and I won.

Girls: _Cheering_

Reporter: And all of you have experienced these same feelings?

Girl 2: Yes, well, nearly everyone in my sophomore class and, from what I hear, lots of the juniors too.

Reporter: Most everyone, but not all?

Girl 3: Well, it seems to be everyone who's…um…unattached.

Reporter: No boyfriends? Is that what you mean?

Felicia: No one in a 'committed relationship'.

Reporter: The girls who were affected were all virgins? Is that what you're inferring?

Girls: _Giggling_

Felicia: Well, it could just be a coincidence…

Giles and Wesley looked at each other. Their Watcher senses were running on overdrive. The fact that this news corresponded exactly with recent events in Sunnydale was no coincidence.

The newscaster continued, "In an oddly related story, the crime rate in metropolitan areas has increased by an equal percentage to the young girls injury and death rates in the previous story. It seems that whatever has effected this population has caused an abnormal amount of rash, ruthless and thoughtless behavior. We have Dr. Martin Joffery on the line from Seattle, WA to discuss the…"

Rupert raced for the office door and called out into the hotel. "Willow, Buffy, get in here now." All heads turned toward Giles whose command had caught them off guard. He hadn't sounded that in charge in years.

#####

He found his place by the window, hefted his carry-on to the overhead and stretched his muscles one last time, but, as Alan began to sit down, he stopped and reached up and into his bag. He pulled down a small hand-bound book, then settled down into the narrow seat, buckling in for the 14-hour flight. He looked out the window at the sunset over London.

The city held nothing for him other than memories, most of them bad. An East-ender for his whole life, he'd thought he'd never leave that dreary part of the city, much less the country. The horror stories that had enriched his youth had certainly drawn him down an unusual course.

Rupert had answered so many of the young man's questions about the Slayer and the members of the Sunnydale group that although they had never met, he felt he knew each of them personally. But the LA group had been secondary. He knew that Angel was a souled vampire, that the Slayer had loved him, but they had parted friends, Angel Investigations was the result and there were others there now helping the vampire "help the helpless". Alan wondered if he fit into that category, or if he would once his boss found out he'd brought the package himself instead of sending it. He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of his seat.

"You all right, sir?" a passing steward asked.

"Fine," Alan replied gently.

"Can I get you a glass of water before take-off?"

"No, thanks, I'm all right. Jus' leavin' home for a while, s'all."

"First trip to America, sir?"

Alan opened his eyes and looked out into the darkening sky, "Second," he replied.

#####

Upon hearing the news, Wesley had thrown himself at his laptop. "Rupert," he called now from the library, "What was the name of that organization? National Resea…."

"No, it was National Opinion Institute."

"Got it."

"What is it?" Willow asked as she and Buffy ran downstairs toward him, "Giles, you look positively…."

"Good, you're here." Giles interrupted, looking beyond them to the top of the stairs, "Angel, you should hear this too." By the time they were all present, Wesley was printing out everything he could find on the MSNBC, CNN and all the major network news sites. Giles turned to Willow and handed her the first of the printed sheets, "Read this." He turned back to the printer, "Can't this thing go any faster?"

"It's the color. I'll print everything else in black. Sorry, I didn't think about speed." Wes adjusted the printer settings.

"Giles," Willow was half-way through the first page. "What is this? What's going on? What happened to all these girls?"

"Willow," Giles answered as he handed her more paper. "Don't you see, the spell, the Slayer spell you did?"

"It worked, didn't it? I mean, we won because of it, the battle was…"

"Yes, yes, it worked." Giles pulled off his glasses as he always did to make his point stick. "The problem is that it worked too well. There have been repercussions we didn't foresee. Girls around the world have gained the strength and confidence of Slayers overnight with none of the training, none of the experience. They're taking chances, risks, dares and they're hurting themselves at an alarming rate."

Willow wobbled and Buffy helped her find a place to sit, not feeling too steady herself.

"Giles," Buffy looked from one face to another. "What's going on?"

Turning to one of the younger girls who had followed the others into the library, Giles asked, "Jennifer, since Willow did the spell in Sunnydale, how have you felt?"

"Great. Never better. Strong." Giles nodded and the girl continued, "Powerful. Invincible."

Giles moved on to Fred, "And you?"

"Well, fine, I guess." She looked questioningly at Angel who returned a confused glance.

"Giles," Buffy repeated, "What is it? A little too much drama going on."

"Buffy, it seems that Willow's spell, although it allowed us to win the battle with the First and to close the Sunnydale Hellmouth, held some unanticipated consequences."

The other girls stood in the doorway, curious about the excitement but now concerned that their fate was once again. "Like?" Rona asked.

"Like that it only affected young women who were…um…virgins," Giles said with belated delicacy. "I suppose I knew on some level that all girls who are called were…, but it didn't occur to me that the spell would be selective."

"But I'm not…," Becca started to say, but Shannon hit her in the shoulder and she demurred. "Okay, yeah I am."

"But," Willow interrupted, "Kennedy was a Slayer after the spell. She fought like one. Didn't she?"

"It could have been suggestive. Adrenaline was running on high and may have been mistaken for new-found power if you were looking for it," Giles suggested.

"Oh." Buffy thought for a moment. "So, is that a problem? If it's just certain girls that share the Slayer power, that's okay. Isn't it?"

"It seems that having given this gift to young girls without training or maturity, or the guardianship of a Watcher has led to an abuse of those powers, or a misunderstanding of them. They've been putting themselves in danger."

Wesley finished the thought, "So, we either have to go public and educate them all, or we have to…."

"…reverse the spell."

Giles looked at the stricken Wicca, "Yes, Willow. Reverse the spell."

Buffy flinched. The idea of not being the only Slayer, of not having to be the One anymore had provided her with some measure of relief over the last couple of days. She didn't have to think or do or manage anymore. "That can't be the only way," she stood and argued. "We can teach them, like Wes said. Willow can do a web site to let them know. We'll spread the word. We'll…"

"There's too many, Buffy. And the danger is too imminent. Look." Giles handed her a fistful of the papers Wesley had been printing, copies of the news reports. "It's happening everywhere. It's happening now."

"There's another thing," Angel spoke up. All eyes turned toward him. "The blood."

"Blood?" Gunn asked.

"Yes, there was something about that dog the other night. It had killed. Recently. I could smell the blood on its breath. I just do, you know. But there was something about the smell. I couldn't place it until now. But it was Slayer blood. All of the girls that were effected must now have Slayer blood."

"And," continued Lorne, "In the demon community, that's a pretty hot commodity. Used for everything from an aphrodisiac to a major spell booster. Possessing Slayer blood puts each of these girls in immediate danger and without the training…"

"We can't pull their powers back just like that," Buffy argued "It'd be like pulling out the rug from under them."

Faith stepped in. "Better that than hoping they survive the learning curve, B."

"I know we all thought we'd be sharing a great gift. We thought we'd be empowering the weak, but instead we've put them all in danger," Willow surmised. "Buffy, if we don't…"

"…they're all dead." Buffy gave in, "We have no choice."

"Willow, I need you to help me find a way to reverse the spell." The redheaded witch nodded at Giles. "And girls, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to go home until we resolve this." The girls, despite their disappointment, nodded silently. "Wesley, what else have you found," Giles asked and then he, Wes and Willow headed into a corner to confer. Buffy turned to leave, making a path through the girls in the doorway.

She had been free for a few days, free to not be the only Slayer. For the first time in seven years, she had just been Buffy Summers and now, as suddenly as it was given, that freedom was being taken away. Destiny hadn't been good to her, claiming the man she cared most about in the world only a few short days ago and now it was calling her again. She would answer, as always, but she didn't have to be happy about it.

#####

Alan pushed back his tray of airline food. 'Disgusting,' he thought. He looked out the window once more at the deepening twilight. The stars over the ocean were beautiful. Sleeplessly, he reached for Rupert's book. 'Well,' he figured, 'If it's got somethin' to what's happnin' now in L.A., I guess I ought to give it a read.' He opened the volume to the first page.

_This story existed only in the oral histories of the Akasumite peoples, said to have originally been an instructive fable told to the youth of those tribes. It was first committed to writing by Sir Harmon Gerrard during his 1853 sojourn into northeastern Africa. His assistant on this trip was his wife, Lady Gwendolyn Gerrard. Each of the pair were renowned linguists in their own right. They originally heard this story in the native tongue, Ge`ez, and later discovered it existed within the old South Arabian language, in which the story was also related to them. Their subsequent translation was derived is the culmination of both accounts as assembled by Lord and Lady Gerrard upon their return to London in 1865. _

"Bullocks," Alan thought. "Rupert, you swot. This is the kind of over analytical rubbish that gives us Brits a bad name." But he continued reading.

_This, the oldest written version of the tale of __"__The Crown__",__ appears to be broken down into three distinct sections with the second and third having probably been added at later times to enhance the original meaning or the original message of the story. _

_In the time before time there were ten kingdoms, ruled by ten siblings. The Eldest among them was prized as the chief of all the People and that kingdom was the heart of the People. The Eldest was sought out to settle all disputes and each generation of Eldest put the good of all the People before the good of their own tribe._

_The ten kingdoms lived in harmony, each content to provide their neighbors with the product of their individual skills. One tribe was skilled with metal, making jewelry and tools for trade. Another one from near the sea, harvested shells and sea creatures. A third tribe, from near the river were basket weavers, and a fourth worked the land. In this way all gifts were shared, all tribes rich in each __other's__ bounty and the People at peace._

_Many generations ago in the time of Egsus, upon the rising of the new moon within the 4th moon, the ninth tribe, that with skills in fighting and weaponry, held counsel. They spoke secretly among themselves saying, __"__Why toil to trade for what we need when we can make weapons that will allow us to simply take what we require__?"_

_Now, whereas the homes of each tribe were protected from harm by a circular wall made of sticks woven with reeds and mud, the scheming tribe began to fortify their wall. They made it stronger and thicker and their shaman protected it with charms against invaders although no other tribe threatened them. Behind their wall they created an army of fierce animals; dogs with sharp teeth and flying lizards with taloned claws for holding and shredding enemies. _

_Then they began to attack the other tribes one by one and to take the treasures meant for worship or trade. These they took back and lay behind their new fortress, ending each victory with strong wine, wicked depravity and vile rituals created to celebrate only themselves, no longer feeling the need to revere their gods. By following this path their tribe became rich in power, but had separated themselves from the People and were poor in spirit._

Thus ends the first part of this tale. This first section speaks only of the loss of innocence of the People and was, for this culture, a tale akin to the Garden of Eden. The next section appears to be added to address what could be done by the people to overcome such base nature, by turning to their most trusted leaders and separating themselves from those who couldn't strive for the good of all.

_As the news of the attacks spread the other kingdoms sought out the Eldest saying, __"__Please, denounce your __brother's__ tribe, for we fear what they do and make behind their thick wall__."__ The Eldest did not answer. Again they asked, __"__Let us attack their wall and take their weapons, kill them and their beasts. Let us live in harmony as only nine kingdoms__."__ Again their petitions were unanswered for, at this time, the leadership of the eldest kingdom was fulfilled by an old woman, Naillig. Her decisions had been sound and good for many years, providing the People with peace, but now she lay dying and could not answer the __People's__ cries._

_Her children gone before her, the grandson at her side was to be the Eldest, yet he stood only eight years and was afraid to face the __People's__ troubles alone. As the woman breathed her last, and the People called out for justice, the boy trembled. He knelt at the __woman's__ side for three days and nights, asking for her to stay, to rise up and reunite the People once again. Still the woman slept more deeply. When he could say no more, the young chief closed his eyes and wept for the future of the People. _

_At this same time, the People, fearing for their lives, begged the gods, __"__Oh, Ancient Ones, please hear us, create a power which will open their gates to us__."_

_The __boy's__ prayerful tears fell to earth. When the boy opened his eyes he found that upon those spots where his tears had fallen, stood a great spirit. Her cloak glowed with the bright green of spring and shimmered as though made of stars. She looked at the young leader and spoke gently. __"__Do not cry boy. Your grandmother is not dead__."_

"_I do not weep for her life, spirit__,"__ the boy explained. __"__My grandmother lived long and well and is content to go on to her next nature. I rejoice for her__."_

"_Why do you weep then__?"__ the spirit asked._

"_I weep for the People who live here in fear. I weep for I know that, without my grandmother, the People will be at war__." _

_With a slight smile, the spirit replied, __"__You will be a great chief one day__,"__ she smiled. __"__But not yet__."__ And with that the spirit held out its arms and between her hands appeared a circlet of gold. __"__Place this crown upon your __grandmother's__ head and she will rise to save the People__."_

_The boy did as he had been told and Naillig the Eldest arose from her slumber. In unity the nine kingdoms fought the tenth, tore down their walls, slew their fierce animals, released their prisoners and the ten tribes were united once again. A small band of the most corrupt men fled to the jungle and built their fence anew but were left to live, the People content to be whole again__."_

#####

Willow took a break from the research which today included not only Cordy's problem and Angel's giant with the dog, but now the need to reverse her all-Slayer spell. She took a walk up onto the rooftop deck of the Hyperion. Stepping out into the warm sunlight she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her thoughts turned to Kennedy. She hadn't returned until late this morning and when she had, she had been aloof, crawling into bed fully clothed and without a word. Willow had tried to wake her at lunchtime to no avail. That wasn't like her. Or at least it wasn't like Willow had known her.

As though on cue, Kennedy emerged from the top of the stairwell. "Hi," she said sheepishly, lifting a hand to shield the sun from her eyes, "Crap, that's bright."

"Oh, hi," Willow replied. "Sunlight."

"I guess there's a reason that vampires don't like it, huh?" Kennedy asked to make conversation.

"Yep," the witch responded.

"Um," they both spoke simultaneously and then laughed nervously.

"Silly," Willow said.

"What?"

"We should know what to say to each other…I mean we are…you know."

Kennedy raised her eyes and looked fully at Willow. "Yes, I know."

They both lapsed into silence for a moment then Willow cleared her throat and asked, "Are you going out again tonight?"

Kennedy nodded. So did Willow.

"C'mon Willow. Come to the club with me."

"I don't underst…Why do you go there?"

With a smile, Kennedy told her, "It's fun. The music is great. The drinks are strong. There are other women like me…like us."

"But…they're not like me. I just can't go out to a gay bar. I'm not like that."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know." As though she had been reading Willow's thoughts, the younger woman began, "Willow, we've only ever known each other when something terrible is about to kill us. Maybe, we don't know each other as well as we thought." She looked at her lover and continued, "I remember taking you out on our first date. You were uncomfortable about it then. You still are."

"Uncomfortable?" Willow asked, but she knew.

"About being a lesbian."

"No. That doesn't bother me at all." Kennedy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Willow explained, "No, really. It's who I am now, I'm not ashamed…."

"I didn't say you were ashamed. I know you're not. I meant that you don't…," she searched for the right words and settled on, "walk the walk." Willow began to object, but Kennedy cut her off, "When's the last time you spoke out for gay rights? Sought political or religious freedom for us? Went to a parade or celebrated your choice publicly…."

"Well, been a little busy. Saving the world here," Willow began defensively.

Shaking her head, Kennedy took Willow's hand. "Willow, you're not gay any more than you are…not. You, my love, are a romantic, in love with being in love, no matter which gender."

"Hey, I am too a…," she was trying hard to sound convincing, but her voice grew softer as she finished, "…lesbian."

Kennedy grinned in spite of herself, "Think about it for a minute Willow. Were your happiest moments with Tara really any different than those same moments with Oz? Your first date, your first kiss, your first night together? When Oz came back for you did you choose to stay with Tara because she was a woman, or because you had a commitment to each other by then?"

Arguing, Willow balked, "We loved each other. I couldn't have left Tara any more than…."

"Than you could have left Oz?" Kennedy asked. Willow's eyes grew wide for a moment. "See?" Willow nodded quietly. "But, I'm not like that. When I fall in love with a woman it is, at least in part because they are a woman and I want to show it off to the world, to make the world acknowledge it…me…us."

Willow squeezed her lover's hand, "Isn't it enough if I acknowledge you? If we just celebrate each other?"

Releasing her grip, Kennedy looked sadly at Willow and answered, "Not for me." Silence fell again for a time. "Willow, it was important that we had each other when we did. I feel like I'm still able to contribute too, so I'm not leaving yet, but I think from here out we should just be friends because I can be a friend but I can't be the kind of lover you need."

"You don't love me?"

"Willow, I care about you so much. You are an amazing woman, probably the most powerful woman I'll ever know. You excite me, I admire you, I idolize you, but I can't give you what you want. It won't ever be 'happily ever after' with us."

"It could…I could be okay without…," Willow sniffed.

Kennedy ran her sleeve over her eyes and stood to leave, "No. Listen, Willow, you deserve it if anyone does. You deserve the fairy tale ending. You need someone who can dream the same dreams you do, who can share their heart, not a cause."

Willow stayed to watch the sunset then went back to her room. Kennedy's things were gone.

#####

"Buffy?" Angel called for the blonde Slayer. He had watched her as the team had discussed the magical problem earlier and he knew she had been devastated by the outcome…and why. Eventually he found her sitting in the garden, her head resting on her arms and tears falling onto the ground.

Angel sat down on a bench opposite her and waited.

Eventually the sniffing stopped and a small voice asked, "Angel, have you ever seen me sparkle?"

The dark vampire was stumped; he'd prepared himself for a conversation about duty and honor. "Sparkle?" he asked.

Raising her head and wiping the remaining tears away, Buffy repeated, "Yes, sparkle." When she was answered with silence she continued, "I know I haven't felt much like it lately, but, did I ever?"

"Buffy, I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You know. Happy, perky, shiny. Do I sparkle?"

Angel looked at the woman he used to love and took a moment to consider his answer. He knew her well enough to know that this question was very important to her and that his answer would mean more to her than she was letting on. "When I first met you, you were so young. Everything was new to you, slaying, Sunnydale, love. Even before I knew you, I used to watch you from the other side of the room, the way you tossed your hair, your smile, your laugh…and yes, you sparkled."

"I did?" Buffy asked with a smile that quickly faded, "But I don't anymore?"

He continued, "Buffy, a Slayer has a lot to deal with. Life and death everyday, not just her prey, but her own, and the people she cares about. You've had more than your share. That spark you used to have may have matured into an ember, but, it flames to life once in a while. It's still there."

"It is? When?"

"What is this about Buffy? Why are you all concerned about 'sparkling' all of a sudden?"

"Because…someone told me I didn't…not for him."

"Was it…," he began. "Was it Spike that told you that?"

Buffy nodded, as she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall again.

Angel's first instinct was to rage. He had left Buffy so that she could have a "normal" life. He'd hoped, well, sort of hoped, that it would be with that Iowa farm boy, but that hadn't worked out well, and then she had taken up with Spike who was anything but "normal". Angel had known about the two of them for a while, or at least he had suspected it because she reeked of the blonde vampire, but he'd kept his tongue. She wasn't one to take advice well especially when it came from him.

When he came back to Sunnydale during the middle of the most recent apocalypse Angel had been conflicted. The situation with Cordelia was confusing to say the least. He had become Angelus and Angel again, Cordy had been with Connor, he had tried to kill her, she had tried to steal his soul…so he had come back to Sunnydale where things had been simpler. He had brought with him an amulet and his curiosity. He wondered if there was anything left between Buffy and him. He'd approached her, offered to be her champion and then he'd kissed her, or had he been kissed by her? Either way they had kissed and he _had_ seen her eyes 'sparkle' once more.

He knew that Spike had seen it, surprised only that Buffy hadn't sensed his presence too. He'd been pleased about that. But then Buffy had sent him away, had chosen Spike to be her champion, had spent those last days with him. It was funny, but after his initial surprise, Angel had been relieved. He could clock from that moment when he knew he was in love with Cordy. From that moment he had given Buffy over to Spike, trusting her to have made her own best choice. Now, after all that to find that Spike had left her questioning herself, he was enraged.

Buffy felt the familiar rumble of his anger. "Don't go there, Angel. Please? I really need a friend now, not a…."

"…champion?" he finished. Reminding himself that Buffy had obviously felt something for his old roommate, Angel swallowed his temper and walked over to the blonde Slayer. "Okay, Buffy, I'm here," he took her hand gently and sat down with her. "I've learned a lot of things in my 200 plus years. Mostly about the evil things people can do to each other, but lately, even more lately, I've learned a lot about how people love each other." Buffy looked up at Angel hopefully. "I know that there is the kind of love where you feel like teenagers, giddy and silly and foolishly happy. The kind of love that makes you weak in the knees and lifts your soul up, the kind that makes you sparkle. But, Buffy, there's another kind of love. The kind of deep love where nothing is more important to you than the other person, where what you feel is so profound that you can't put it into words as small as 'love'. That's the kind that is fueled not by sparks, but by embers."

"I told him I loved him, Angel. I told him too late. I told him, but he didn't believe me."

Turning his eyes star-ward, Angel answered, "It's never too late to say 'I love you'. And if you said it, he believed you."

"How do you know that? He sent me away, he left me alone…."

"Sometimes, you can only show someone how much you care by walking away."

With a jolt, Buffy realized the sacrifices that both of the vampires she had loved had made for her. Tears were trembling within her eyes again when Angel's next words, spoken only to himself, left her wondering, "And sometimes you show them by staying."

#####

Alan had lost himself in the story and was surprised back to reality when the flight attendant asked him if he wanted a drink.

"Oh, yeah. Scotch please. Neat."

"Certainly sir." The attendant handed Alan a jigger of scotch poured into a plastic cup. "Anything else I can get you for now? A pillow? It's getting late."

"No, thanks. Jus' wanna read."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir. Just push the green button above you then, if you change your mind."

Alan nodded, took a swallow of his drink and turned his attention back to the book.

This final section, the third, was added on within the last millennium, modifying the importance of the crown itself and embodying it with a power of its own. This appears to be in response to the quashing of a rebellion within the Akasumite peoples, which dates c.1615-1622.

_They celebrated their peace and as a sign to her Peoples that no tribe held honor over another, the Eldest removed her crown. At once the great spirit that had bestowed the crown upon her returned. Naillig presented the circlet back to the spirit who would not accept it._

"_I make this crown a gift to the People in whom I and my brethren are well pleased, that they may remember this day of joy and peace forever. To aid the chiefs who are to be in their duty to continue harmony among you, I place within the crown a portion of my own essence. It will serve the Eldest to open any gate which you may create between yourselves, or to close any gate behind which lie your enemies__."__ At that moment a small section of the __spirit's__ glowing cloak floated from her and infused itself into the crown. __"__From now until all time, this crown is given by the gods to the People. Its power is bequeathed to that one in every generation who seeks only to serve the __People's__ peace, the Eldest. In conflict it lays upon the head of the chosen. In peace it rests lightly at their side. May the People live in peace forever__."_

To this day, in arguments between peoples, whether they be tribes or husband and wife, it is said that Naillig's Crown will reunite those who seek to open the gates between them. And when one tribe attempts to overpower another with corruption and evil, it is said that this same crown overwhelms and encloses the wicked. Although the translation of the word 'chosen' is debated, the similarities between our own Slayers and the spiritual appointment of a sole leader with power to rule in peace are striking.

Alan closed the book and thought back to his conversation with Giles. They were seeking only to awake Cordelia from her coma. From the description of the crown's power in the second part of the story it seemed possible. Still, perhaps Giles had forgotten the third section of the story. Alan wondered if Naillig's Crown was really the answer at all, or maybe Giles didn't know the whole question.

#####

"I give up," the redheaded witch threw another book on top of the growing pile at her feet. "There is no way to reverse this spell."

"Perhaps if I call Ms. Hutchins again," Giles began.

Willow turned on him, "She doesn't know either, Giles. Nobody knows. This is new territory."

"What if we simply destroy the scythe?" Wesley suggested for the umpteenth time.

The others answered in unison, "No!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Destroy the scythe and destroy the legend.' Poof, no more Slayers, not even the One." Wesley repeated the one bit of data they'd found like a petulant child. "But isn't none better than what we're facing?"

"No!" the others responded again.

"Willow," the elder Watcher asked, "what was it that you just said? That this is 'new'?" Willow nodded. "Maybe that's just it. Maybe it's not new, maybe it's as old as the First."

"Okay," the witch answered, "I'm listening."

"Who do we know who knows everything ancient?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**DAY 4**_

Alan arrived at LAX the next morning at 11:00 am and called the Hyperion.

"Mr. Rupert Giles, please?" he asked.

"Certainly," Lorne responded and put the call on hold while he tracked down the Watcher.

Giles couldn't imagine who might be calling, everyone he knew was there with him, but once the call had been switched to the private phone in his room, he picked up the receiver, "Yes? This is Rupert Giles."

"Giles?"

"Oh, yes! Alan. Did you find that book? When will it arrive?"

"One thing at a time, Rupert. Yeah, I foun' it. I have it with me."

"Why haven't you sent it? We need that to…"

"I have it with me and I'm here in LA."

"Here?" Giles could not believe his ears. "But I said…God, why didn't you just…" but he knew why. "You shouldn't have. It's not a good time."

"Face it, Giles, 's'never going to be the right time. Might as well get it over with so I can help with everythin', instead of sittin' on my ass back in London. I'm here and I'm getting a cab. See ya soon," and Alan hung up.

Giles sat without moving for seconds before he realized he was still hanging on to the phone. Returning the handset to the cradle, the Watcher rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. What else could go wrong? Realizing that he was unable to postpone this conversation any longer, he called for the one person who had to know, "Buffy?"

#####

"Why aren't we ready yet?" demanded Magus. His dog paced the small one room apartment of their confederate, sniffing and growling intermittently at his master's anxiety.

Doc made sure his hands were well away from the creature's large teeth and responded, "I've told you, we are almost there. The next step is the power source, the energy, and as I told you, that is now in Los Angeles. A delectable treat, waiting to be…reacquired."

"I have men ready to act when the time is right."

"Yes, yes. It will be soon now, tomorrow, I think." Doc walked across the small room to a desk scattered with charts, graphs and books. He shuffled through some paper and came up with the one he was looking for. "Yes, tomorrow night will be good."

Magus' eyelids fell in rapture as he savored the nearness of his goal. Rouj dipped his head under his master's dangling hand. "Yes, Rouj, soon. Soon I will have my full power again, I will reclaim the throne taken from me and my sister so long ago. I will avenge her death and the prey in both worlds will be ours." The beast seemed to understand and panted in anticipation of the kills to come.

"Your sister was a fool," Doc muttered.

"What?" Magus roared, his ecstasy interrupted.

"She allowed herself to be distracted by…material things."

Placated somewhat, Magus made one last effort to excuse his sibling. "Glorificus was beautiful and deserved beautiful things. It was the human she inhabited that was her undoing. I do not share this handicap. I will not fail."

Bowing deeply Doc appeared penitent. "As you say, Magistericos. You will not fail." Assured that the god had believed his apology, he continued, "And you and Rouj there have found the answer to the final part of the puzzle."

"Blood of the Slayer."

"Yes, but it must be unrelated Slayer blood. There must be no one who can close the portal again. Fortunately they have made the supply of what we need so very available."

The two men sat through the night making plans to return Magus to his reign. But one of them was playing his own game.

#####

"Angel?" Buffy gasped. "What do you mean, 'sometimes they stay'?"

"Well," the somber vampire began, "it's just that since Cordy…"

He was interrupted by the Watcher's loud call, "Buffy?"

Looking towards the building, Angel echoed Buffy's thoughts. "He sounds worried. Maybe you'd better see what's up."

Buffy was relieved at the excuse to leave. She thought she knew what Angel was about to tell her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it just yet. "Okay, but we finish this later, right?" she called over her shoulder as she walked deliberately away.

"Giles?" she called as she re-entered the hotel.

"Here," the Englishman called from the lobby.

"What's up?" Buffy tried to sound nonchalant but the familiar tension mounted as she saw Giles' face. "Geez, what is it Giles? You'd think you'd seen a ghost."

A wry smile crossed his face as he gestured to Buffy to join him on the sofa. As they both sat he cleared his throat. "Uh…Buffy?"

"Yes?" the petite blonde responded expectantly.

"Do you remember when I first left Sunnydale for England? After you came back?"

Buffy recalled that day. She'd felt abandoned, confused and so alone. They had never talked again about his decision to leave and although she understood his motives, some resentment still remained. Controlling herself and the emotion in her voice, Buffy's reply was an understatement, "Haven't forgotten it."

Giles looked at his Slayer, he knew she was holding her tongue about something, but he had to get through this. Nodding he continued, "Yes, well, of course. Well, at one point in the flight which is, by the way, rather long, I left my seat to…uh, you know. Anyway, as I was walking to the…WC, I passed a young man seated four rows behind me and he…," clearing his throat, Giles finished the sentence, "…caught my attention."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Giles, what are you trying to tell me?"

Embarrassed as he realized what Buffy was thinking, Giles backpedaled, "Oh, dear, no. Dear me. Buffy, it wasn't that." He looked at Buffy and smiled shyly.

"Oh. Good, Giles. I don't think I could go through another 'coming out' just now."

His words rushed out, "It was just that this young man looked…well, I'll get to that. Anyway, after the flight, I asked him to join me for a drink. We got to talking and it seems that he had been, well, a student of vampires and vampirism for quite a while. He had been in Sunnydale doing some research and was just returning home to England. He impressed me with his sincerity and his story and what with the Watcher's Council gone now, I needed an assistant to help me pick up the pieces so I hired him. He's been working for me, staying in my spare room." Buffy nodded. "Well, he's a bit headstrong, Alan. That's his name. And it seems that my recent request for him to send us the book about the Crown to cure Cordelia caused him to not only send the book, but to bring it to us himself."

Sensing that Giles was irritated by this fact somehow, Buffy offered her usual solution, "So he's coming here." Giles nodded. "And that's not what you wanted him to do?" Another nod. "And you want me to go kick his butt for you? No prob."

Amused but pleased that Buffy was apparently on his side again, Giles put his hand on her shoulder and smiled, "No, that's not it." Then his face grew serious as he carefully considered his next words but before he could utter them, the Hyperion's doors squeaked open.

Buffy and Giles both stood and turned to greet whoever was entering. As Buffy fainted into his arms, Giles looked up into the face of the new occupant. "Hello, Alan."

#####

"Come Rouj."

The large man was calling him again and something compelled him to follow. They left the too small shelter and walked out into the dawn. The dew felt good between his toes and the last remnants of night air filtered through his coat to cool him. Daylight bothered the wolf since he was nocturnal by nature, but he was developing a tolerance through strength of will. He was a powerful creature, with power over others and control of self.

As he walked, he savored the movement of his body, sleek, lithe, powerful. He looked down at his feet from which protruded sharp, dangerous claws. He'd killed recently, he knew because he wasn't hungry. He licked his lips. Blood. There'd been blood, yes. But this was different, there was something…familiar in the way it smelled.

The animal was becoming aware of itself, that it had been thinking, that it had had thoughts at all. This too seemed familiar, but by instinct he feared sentiency as he feared fire. It brought pain.

"Rouj!" the man called again.

The wolf shook his head and padded after the man, willing for now to acknowledge whoever provided shelter and shared in the hunt.

#####

"Buffy? Buffy?" Wes was kneeling at her side, patting the blonde Slayer's face with a cool cloth when she came around. Not used to being out cold, Buffy flung herself at what she assumed must have been an opponent that had knocked her off her feet and threw Wes back onto the floor in her rush to be upright.

"Steady, there," Gunn spoke from across the room. "You're among friends."

Buffy scanned the room. He was right. But something didn't fit. The world had rocked and she… "Spike?"

Spike was standing there, solid and real. He stood nervously across the room from her, his head tilted, his posture achingly familiar. The room began to swim again and Buffy's breath became short. She took an unsteady step toward him but Giles stepped in the way. "Buffy, this is Alan, Alan Henison."

"Giles, don't you see. It's him! The amulet must have saved him somehow, or he escaped, or the light…." As she tried to find an explanation, Buffy turned her gaze to Spike. His eyes lifted and looked into her own. There was recognition, but the intimacy that she had known, the love that had inhabited them, the understanding and welcome she had always found with Spike was not there. She realized that what Giles said was true. This was not Spike, but his double. She still couldn't breathe.

Willow stepped to her friend's side, and put her arm over her shoulders, sensing how it must have been to Buffy to have what she wanted most at your fingertips only to have it stolen away again. "Giles, this isn't fair. How could you have brought him here without telling her?"

"I _was_ tel…and I did _not_ bring him here. As far as I knew he was safely tucked away in England. I wouldn't have…."

"He's right. 'S'was my idea."

With all of the rest of them, the young witch had been caught off guard by the similarity between Spike and Alan, not only in appearance but in voice. She hesitated for a moment before replying, "But you couldn't have known how this would effect her. Giles understood. He should have made it clear to you th…."

"Thanks for the out, Red," the nickname rolling off his tongue, "but I knew. Still, best to get it over with. Didn't fancy all the sneakin' 'round anyway."

Buffy couldn't take it anymore, she closed her eyes and covered her ears, oblivious to the tears falling down her cheeks. She began to repeat, "No, no, no."

Xander stepped in front of Alan, "Listen, whoever had it, this wasn't a good idea. You'd better leave."

But Alan wasn't listening. Something in the shattered woman in front of him touched a part of him he'd been denying too long. He stepped around Xander and stood in front of Buffy. He waited quietly until her murmuring stopped, then he gently reached up and took her hands from the sides of her head. She stood before him now, her head lowered and eyes shut, willing away the memories, trying to cope with what appeared to be real but was not. The silence thrummed throughout the room as Alan gently placed his forefinger under Buffy's chin and raised her eyes to his own. She blinked and his visage swam into view.

"I know. But I'm not him. 'S just me, Alan."

"But why? How…," Buffy began, trapped in his gaze.

Fred interrupted, "Giles was starting to explain to us when you woke up." She turned toward him, "Please continue, Rupert?"

Glad for an excuse to talk, as teaching always calmed him, Giles began, "Right then, Buffy, as I was telling you, I met this young man on that first flight back to England and hired him to be my assistant. You see now what caught my attention." Buffy fought a mental battle and turned her attention to her Watcher. "Good. Well, it seems that Alan here is a distant relative of Spike's."

The spell between them broken, Alan supplied, "Great-great-great-grandnephew, best as I can tell."

"Yes, that's it," and Giles stepped back to give Alan the floor. The others gathered around.

Alan began nervously, unused to speaking to so many people, but he found the false bravado within himself to continue. Buffy saw this from where she stood and she embraced it as familiar. She smiled slightly.

"Well, growin' up in the East End, we didn't have much. My dad was long gone before I was born and my mum never married. She did her best to raise me though, workin' as an overnight cleanin' lady so's she could be 'roun' me durin' the day. She'd come home in time to see me off to school and she'd tell me bedtime stories before she left for work. Mostly they were frightening yarns from the history of the family that had disowned her cuz of me." He looked around the room, "I'm a bastard, you see. My mum, she held out that there was a book full of those stories secreted away somewhere on the family estate but we weren't allowed t' go there. She told me the stories from memory. The story was, her great-great-grandfather'd died in Russia in 1855…,"

"The Crimean War," Giles interjected. Alan agreed and gestured that Giles should continue. "Right, well, he died, leaving behind his wife, Eileen and two children, Alan's great-great-grandmother, who was barely 3 and her baby brother only just on the way. Eileen, was devastated and never remarried, doting instead upon her children. Times were hard, but they lived simply and scraped by. Gwendolyn and her brother were very close and because money was tight, they spent time creating their own diversions with songs, stories and poems. As she grew older though and her mother more eccentric, Gwendolyn became more practical and set about to marry a fine young man of position, which she did. She lived well but her mother and brother grew deeper within their own fantasy world. Those she left behind had no other means of support, so Gwendolyn made her new husband promise to provide a home for her mother and little brother as well. Living quarters were established for them not far from their own London property so they could visit often."

"After they had been married for nearly a year, Gwendolyn was expecting their first child but she was still dutiful to her mother and brother. One night Gwendolyn visited to find her brother enthralled with some new woman he'd met. Of course she didn't take him seriously, he was always falling in love with someone or other and writing epic poetry about how it was never-ending or gloriously one-sided, but as she left this night she found herself feeling uneasy. Writing it off as the jitters of early pregnancy, she stayed away. Later that week her brother disappeared."

"Druscilla," Buffy uttered. The others looked at her. They hadn't heard Spike's story as Buffy had.

"Uh huh," Alan confirmed. "They carried on lookin' for William but after several days spent comforting her distraught and ailing mum, Aunt Gwen returned to her own house. Even though she was home now, she was unhappy, plagued by thoughts of what had happened to her brother and of how her mother, already weak, had grown erratic and frail since William's disappearance. At the end of the week, she came back to find 'em both gone. There were signs of a fight near the fireplace and neighbors had tales of an odd couple darkenin' her mother's doorstep but like it was in Sunnydale," Alan shrugged, "with vampires involved, Lilly…uh, the Constabulary were useless."

At that moment, another voice sounded in the room, "He didn't kill her." Robin raised his eyes to meet the stares as heads turned toward him. He was surprised to feel it necessary to defend Spike, but it was. "At the beginning, when we were fighting once, Spike told me about how he'd still had warm feelings for his mother even after Dru had turned him. He'd returned to the house to share his newfound immortality. To restore Eileen, not to kill her." He looked at Buffy, unsure how she would take his next revelation, but thinking that Alan deserved to know the truth. "Well, he did it. He turned her, but in the confusion of her new strength, she told him that she'd hated him for who he had been and who he now was. He staked her accidentally as they fought, then he and Dru left again."

Alan acknowledged Robin with a grateful nod, as Giles continued, "With no bodies, the memorial services were held and the small house closed. Months later, after the birth of her son, and when at last Gwendolyn could face it again, she took several servants with her to clean out her mother's belongings and open the building for tenants. In cleaning out the house, she found a journal."

"To her the book was the product of her mother's vivid and demented imagination, driven to a frenzy at the end by the loss of her son. But, as the mystery of their disappearance was allowed to fade, the tales were kept, told as fanciful horror stories to amuse her family on dark nights. On special occasions Gwendolyn would pull out the diary and read parts of it to embellish the well-used parts of the story. At some point, one of her sons, or one of her grandsons, had the genius to construct a special hiding place for the book within the nursery, where each generation of children could discover and dream over the family mystery anew as they wandered the cold halls of Henison Manor."

"Those were your bedtime stories too." Fred concluded.

Alan nodded, "A few years ago, when my own mum died I began to wonder about the family she had left behind and I made my way out to the family holdings. I introduced myself to my grandfather but he turned his back on me. I insisted that I had come merely to satisfy my curiosity and that I wanted nothing of him or his money and, after much cajoling, he instructed a servant to show me my mum's room, but admonished the girl not to leave me alone in there, or to allow me to take anything away. Then he walked away and I never saw him again.

"Took me to a wing o' the house reserved for the kids and their governess. We found my mum's room there, just like she always said it was, but now it was under 25 years of dust. It was beautiful, the room of a poncy girl growing up in the 50s." He looked at Giles, "I got emotional I guess and I s'pose the servant didn't care for my grandfather much, 'cuz when we left the room and I excused myself to the loo, she went downstairs and left me alone. I'm sure that she knew I was going to nick something. It was true. I had to, if only to get back a little from the family that had hurt my mum so. But I couldn't get that girl in trouble either. It had to be something inconspicuous. I walked back into the children's part of the house not knowing what I wanted, but as I stood there, suddenly I _did_ know. I heard mum's words in my head sayin' 'beneath the third floorboard from the nursery door'. I pulled up the carpet and lifted a panel. There it was, the diary. I stashed it under my shirt and left there for good."

"Well, I read that book cover to cover more times that I could count for the next several weeks. The stories were all there, just as I remembered them being told, but it wasn't a bunch of stories, it was just one. It became clear that the stories were actually her diary and I began to seek out answers. Great-great-great-grandmum's description of William & Dru was clearly of a couple of very dangerous vamps so I asked 'round an' eventually ended up at the Council. I finagled myself a job there and spent all my extra time in the library. I found a thesis one of the council members had written on William the Bloody. From the description, I thought they might be the same man so I arranged to meet with her. She reacted much as you did, Buffy, faintin' and all, but after I explained who I was, she told me that William, now Spike, was still around, livin' in Sunnydale. As soon as I had the money put together I came here to see him for myself."

Dawn looked up suddenly, "You were here? I mean, in Sunnydale?"

"Yep, 'bout two years ago. Didn't meet Spike though. I chickened out. Watched him and learned about him but thought I'd come back later to shake hands."

"You dyed your hair so you wouldn't be mistaken for him, didn't you?" She pointed to Alan's current hairstyle, "That kind of blonde is hard to miss."

"Yeah, I did, but how did you…."

"And you played…dominos."

"Okay, now this is getting weird. How do you know about that?"

Everyone was looking at Dawn. "Did you see him?" Buffy asked.

"Well," Dawn hesitated, "No, I didn't see him, but someone…said something." She knew that she was never going to hear the end of it if she told Buffy the whole Ghora egg story, but maybe it was important. Everything seemed important now, a part of the whole. "After mom died, Spike and I went to see this guy…," she began.

#####

Doc was jerked awake from one of his catnaps by a sudden sense of foreboding. He was halfway to his feet when the door to his apartment flew not just open, but across the room, ending upside down having made a significant dent in one of his artifacts. Following the door into the room was one angry god. For only a moment the smaller man's eyes flickered coal black and as cold as space, but it passed. After inhaling deeply Doc intoned, "Good evening, Magistericos," as calmly as possible.

"Little man, you promised me a kingdom."

"Yes, Magistericos. Your kingdom."

"And more."

"Yes, Magistericos. Much more."

"You promised me a battle tonight."

Doc removed his glasses and smiled benignly at his 'guest'. "Yes, it begins tonight."

"I am a warrior. I crave battle, bloodshed. I dreamt last night of home, my robes of honor, my scepter and I will have them soon. But I feel uneasy." Pulling himself to full height, an easy eighteen inches taller than Doc, Magus drew in his power to intimidate this little minion, "If you have deceived me…. I warn you Doctor…."

Turning his back on the raving giant in his doorway, Doc calmly walked through his apartment and perched lightly on one of his wingback chairs. "Threats are unnecessary, Magistericos. I serve you absolutely, as I did your sister. You will have your victory and your craving for battle may be sated this very evening." He bowed his head in what he hoped was a gesture of deference.

With excitement now showering off of him, the god took one stride across the room and stood in front of his diminutive disciple. Though excited by the possibility, he had learned enough about this world to doubt the man before him. "Can it be true? Is the time upon us at last?"

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Doc raised his eyes and answered, "Yes, it is true. You may acquire the next element. If you complete that task tonight, what was yours will be restored within 48 hours."

"What was mine and what you promised me are two different things," Magus growled in an almost unearthly timbre.

"Quite right. What was yours and what I promised will both be yours, Magistericos, within 48 hours."

With one last squint at Doc, the god threw back his head and laughed. Victory would be his, he would be back on his throne and doubly rich in less than two days and this moment was to be savored. Rouj, who had stood quietly at the threshold of the room until now, sensed the joy and padded toward his leader. When Magus felt the animal's head at his thigh, he ran his fingers through its rough fur. "Hear that boy? The hunt's on tonight! Let's go!"

After Magus and Rouj had left, Doc took a moment of magic to lift the solid oak door from where it had landed, and settle it solidly across the open doorway. He then pulled out a journal of meticulous, hand-written notes and checked his own plan one last time. Finally, and with a smile, he crawled back into bed. He would need his rest.

#####

Buffy finished ranting and hugged her sister. They had both been so distraught at the loss of their mom that nothing surprised her, except of course the fact that Spike had, once again, shown his 'good' judgment in helping Dawn at all. "Oh, Dawnie," she sighed, "Sometimes that man tried so hard, he couldn't do anything right."

"No, Buffy, it was me. I knew he'd help if I just asked cuz he'd have done anything to make me happy…to make you happy."

"That's what I mean. He had no sense but his heart was…," Buffy suddenly realized she was talking about Spike in the past tense and she threw her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She looked at Alan.

"…evil?" he suggested.

Buffy slowly lowered her hand and with a clear voice she corrected him, "I was going to say 'extraordinary'. You didn't know him at all, did you?"

"Like I said, stories. I never met the…him."

"And I don't suppose Giles had anything good to say about him either?" Buffy looked at her Watcher accusingly.

"Well, no," Alan answered honestly.

When she turned angry eyes on him, Giles stammered, "Buffy, it's…."

"How dare you? Giles, you're a hypocrite. You rely on…relied on Spike's help, offered freely…."

"Offered on condition of your love," the older man corrected.

"For _whatever_ reason, and you never gave him so much as one scrap of respect did you? You handed him weapons, you stood and fought beside him, but it meant nothing to you except another body in the war. He had finally found something worth living for and he put that life on the line day after day after day. Why? Was he distracting me? Did my slaying ever suffer because of him? Why couldn't you see that he'd changed?"

Despite the tears that began to course down her cheeks, she continued. "You could never see his pain or feel sorry for him either. You never even tried. He was 126 years old and had never been respected, by anyone. Not you," she turned accusingly to the rest of the group, "Not any of you."

She looked pointedly at Angel, "You knew him all along and even you never cared about him, about who he really was. A century ago, he was nothing but a subordinate for you, an amusement, Dru's toy, and then, after you got souled, he was a worry, a problem, a responsibility, but you never considered him a friend or even an equal. You hated him and nagged at him, pushed and cajoled, tortured and taunted him to get him to do what _you_ needed, good _or_ bad."

"And you two," she turned to glare at Xander and Willow, "who are supposed to be my friends, never had any regard for him or for my feelings for him. To you he was…disposable. None of you trusted him and he knew it, felt it. I know you won't believe this, but it hurt him. I wasted a lot of time thinking like you did, that he was just another vampire, but thank God I got to know him, the real him…before…." A sob escaped her and she couldn't speak.

"Love _is_ blind," Xander muttered under his breath.

Buffy rounded on her old friend. "Blind? It wasn't me, it was all of you who were blind. Sure, sometimes his judgment could be horribly off, but I would certainly have to answer to that too. Tell them Angel, about the importance of forgiveness."

Angel turned sad eyes downward. He knew.

Willow sputtered, "He never said anything to any of us. How could we have known?"

"He knew better than to open up to you. His whole life, real and undead, people laughed at him, snubbed him. He hid his true self. But he loved me and I was lucky because I found out that there was so much more to him behind what _you_ saw. Spike was a good man. He could be tender and gentle. He quoted poetry and appreciated beauty. And when he fell in love…it was heart and soul…despite his lack of either.

"You think he was the only one pretending? No. He saw through each of us. Even if we didn't share it with him, he saw the good within each of us. Even if he didn't have our respect, we had his. He worried over each of you Potentials. He cared deeply for Dawn. He was blown away by Willow's skill and compassion. He longed for Giles' friendship, even a kind word. He envied Xander's humanity. He shared Anya's pain…

"Well, now he's died to save us all and no one has said _anything_. I hope you at least feel…something. Loss? Guilt? Gratitude?"

Silence reverberated throughout the room as Buffy's tears of anger and loss fell to the floor. Alan felt his heart drawn toward the diminutive woman in so much anguish. He stood up slowly and walked over to her. He thought of what she had said. He hadn't known his uncle. The things he had learned had all painted Spike as an evil creature, William the Bloody, incapable of feeling any of the things Buffy had just attributed to him. Alan had begun to look upon his search for Spike as etymologists thought of poisonous insects. Interesting and potentially dangerous, but the world would be better off without him. Now, too late, he discovered that the creature had a face, a mind, a heart, a soul. He could think of nothing to say to her. Instead he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

Buffy stiffened, startled at first. She hardly knew this man, but his strong embrace was familiar and inside of it she felt safe for the first time in days.

#####

Magus returned to his underground lair with renewed passion for the fight ahead. As he entered the main tunnel, he was greeted everywhere by servants in brown robes. Their base fear and overt reverence, although just, disgusted him but they served his needs and his purposes. Once they had revered him, now they were not just his worshippers, they were his army. He called to the one whom he had chosen from the rest to be his general.

"Jinx!"

From somewhere startlingly close, the berobed minion appeared at his master's elbow. His appearance was so abrupt that it raised the hackles on Rouj's back and earned a sharp growl in response. "Dammit, Jinx, announce your presence!" Magus insisted.

"Yes, your magnificence. I humbly apologize. What evil chore may I be privileged to do for you, oh Honored One?"

"Call together your…men, Jinx. The hour has arrived."

The minion was too surprised to fawn, "Sir?"

"Now!" Magus watched as the minion scuttled away, calling out to others of his ilk and assembling a team he had designated for the task at hand. The plan was foolproof, but Magus felt sure he was surrounded by fools. Not everything, but nearly everything, was balanced on the success of tonight's mission. Their training had been expert, their weapons were superior and magically enhanced, he had even convinced the special group to shed their robes for more practical black fatigues, but doubt lingered.

When Jinx returned, breathing rapidly from his quick change, Magus announced, "I'm coming with you."

"Oh, your high rulerness," Jinx gasped, "We are indeed unworthy of such an honor. We are not fit to shine your glorious wingtips. Still…."

"What?" snapped the god.

Jinx was afraid. He knew his team and felt fairly sure they could meet their goals, but with Magus present, they would be distracted and feel it necessary to show off. Bowing repeatedly he tried again, "Your Superlative Radiance was not included in our humble plan. Our munificent lord may find his overshadowing omnipotence bored with our meager undertaking."

Unwilling to hear any more, Magus made his intentions clear, "I will come to make sure of your success!"

The minion general fell fearfully to his knees and bent forward to touch his forehead to the floor, "Thank you, Magistericos, for this unbearable kindness. We are undeserving of such blessed attention."

"You may be, but your prey is not," the god answered as he walked back toward the tunnel entrance to meet with his special team.

Jinx rose to follow his lord, secretly praying for help from some more benevolent deity, one that required fewer adjectives.

#####

"Giles, this is goofy. He's not going to come." Willow had been calling now for hours since Buffy had dressed them down about Spike. After her tirade, Buffy had returned exhausted to her room but it had taken a while for Willow to refocus on this, her next duty. Now it was very late, her voice was raw from her repeated invocations and her joints sore from kneeling the whole time. "Please, let's stop."

Angel turned to Giles, "Listen, let's just go to the Powers. They'll tell us…."

"They'll tell us nothing. You have told me yourself how deceitful they are, serving their own purposes. We will _not_ be asking them." Looking through the window to the sunrise that ended another sleepless night, Giles agreed, "Alright then, just one last try?"

Heaving a great sigh, Willow dispensed with all ceremony and called out, "D'Hoffryan! Where the hell are you?"

In the empty seconds that followed, Willow began to stand, convinced that this had been a failure. As she stooped to brush off the knees of her slacks, a spot on the floor in front of her began to smolder with a thick, gray smoke.

"Giles?" Willow's voice warbled. She had only met the demon a few times before, once during a 'job interview' and the last at Xander and Anya's wedding, now simply called the 'fiasco', and lastly at the scene of the Abercrombie and Fitch massacre. He had treated her kindly each time, but Willow knew that beneath the surface, D'Hoffryan held great power, a power that he used only for his own benefit. It was going to be up to them to convince him that helping them was in his best interest.

As the smoke began to take form, a voice emerged from within the cloud. "Ah, Willow. My favorite young witch. It was you calling? I'd have come sooner, had I realized."

Assuming a deferential stance, Willow answered, "Thank you for answering me D'Hoffryan." Beaming a smile in his direction, she added, "It's nice to see you again too."

"You've gotten stronger," the demon observed, looking her over. "I approve." Willow accepted his praise. "How is your human friend Anyanka coming along, then?"

Haltingly Willow told the story of her death to Anya's former employer who seemed interested, if not moved by this turn of events. "I'm sorry, D'Hoffryan," she finished.

"This world was never her home. Things always ended up unhappily for her here. She is best out of it one way or another. But that is a shame." He spent no more than a moment contemplating Anya's demise, then looked around the room. "Such an audience. To what do I owe such ceremony? Tell me, Willow, are you ready to join me? Is that why you called? Are you seeking revenge for something…someone?"

"No, sir. That's not it."

"Because," he encouraged her, "you know I get girls from all places, for all reasons. Some have talents like yours, some have commitment, others a cause. Anyanka was out to avenge all women. Do you remember Halfrek, Anyanka's friend? She was always out to change people's fortunes for the better." Chuckling softly to himself he mused, "You people would like this story. She once deliberately drew a young man into the arms of a vampiress. No, it's true. He was a miserable example of literary mediocrity, enraptured by the gothic dramas that were popular in his time and scathingly untalented. He was doomed, as Halfrek saw it, to a life of misery and rejection…."

Alan and Buffy turned their heads toward D'Hoffryan in unison.

Willow saw their heads turn, but had enough focus to understand that Spike's history was secondary to the current quest. "D'Hoffryan," she interrupted gently, "We were hoping you could help us."

"Help? You?" D'Hoffryan straightened himself and bowed a little too reverently in Willow's direction. "I'd be honored."

Sensing the sarcasm in his voice and noting the body language, Willow continued carefully, "It's really a very little thing we need, just some information on an old weapon and what will happen if it is destroyed."

"It must be powerful indeed to make you…and you…hesitate." He turned from Willow to Buffy and back. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more."

Buffy showed her newest acquisition to the demon lord, being careful to keep it out of his reach. She reminded herself that he was an acquaintance, not a friend. "Ah," D'Hoffryan released a sigh, "Beautiful."

"Dangerous," Alan added.

Without turning his gaze from the scythe, the demon answered, "My dear boy, they are, more often than not, the same thing."

Giles stepped in. "Yes, well, we seem to understand pretty well what it does. But we feel that all in all, things should go back as they were."

The effect of this simple statement was to fill D'Hoffryan's eyes with excitement. Suddenly no one was sure that this was such a good idea, asking a demon lord to help them. Willow was the one who realized they had no choice. "D'Hoffryan? Sir? We know what you are and what you do. This scythe and what it does or doesn't do, is of no concern to Vengeance Demons. All we seek is knowledge."

"Oh, but you're wrong. It has much to do with us. Girls with inner strength do not need us; do not need us to seek revenge on their behalf. Girls with power can exact their own punishments. The last few days have been as though this world suddenly vanished for us, our version of a stock market crash. Now you offer me the opportunity to assist you in reversing that spell? My answer is, 'of course'. Let me see the instrument."

Buffy hesitated. "Come on, I cannot wield it's power. It's for a Slayer to use. I must examine it to help." Slowly Buffy handed over the weapon. The demon took it reverently and turned it around to inspect it from every angle, "Lovely, just lovely. Yes, well. An axe. Seventh century. But it's not just an axe. It is a vessel, one well suited for what it holds. Along with its other, more fatal, attributes, it contains what you seek; the code, or the blueprint, if you will, for a Slayer. Willow, you must have discovered this. You had to have gotten past the weapon's magical defenses in order to effectively clone those characteristics across the world. Very impressive." Willow smiled in spite of herself. "Now, to reverse this spell could be tricky. You'll need to seek out the world's supply of these Slayer plans and reconsolidate them here, within the scythe without affecting the girls by taking something else from them inadvertently. Difficult, but not impossible for someone with your superior talents." D'Hoffryan took a step toward Willow, obviously trying to sway her earlier decision not to join him.

"Then what?" Buffy interrupted.

"Well," the demon continued, "I suspect that it will seek out all Slayer occurrences, not just the clones'."

"So I wouldn't be a Slayer either?"

"Neither of us?" Faith asked.

"Sorry, no," the demon affirmed. "In fact, because you two are of pure Slayer lineage, I cannot say for sure if you will survive the spell at all." The demon's expression acknowledged this new paradox with amusement as he handed the scythe back to Buffy.

There was an outbreak of animated conversation among the group before Giles restored order. "Yes, that is a new wrinkle we hadn't anticipated, however we must all keep our heads and think this through. We can finish the discussion after we have said goodbye to our guest, however." Giles indicated D'Hoffryan who was taking in the whole of the event and whom Giles had begun to suspect would deliver the news of the impending lack of Slayers to the demon world with a great amount of gusto. There was no need to keep him within their circle so that he might also be able to supply the date and time as well. "Thank you, D'Hoffryan, for your assistance. You have been most kind and informative."

The demon lord was disappointed at having been dismissed before getting all the information he could, but he bowed slowly in a gesture of farewell to each of them, "Watcher. Slayers. Comrades. Uh…Others." At last he turned to Willow. "I cannot persuade you then?"

Willow looked embarrassed, lowered her eyes and shook her head. "No thank you, D'Hoffryan."

With finality D'Hoffryan said, "Well, glad to have been of help."

"D'Hoffryan, before you go, do you mind if I ask you one other question?" Angel had waited patiently, but saw no need to let any opportunity to help Cordy evaporate.

"Ah, and you might be…?"

"Angel. Of Angel Investigations."

"We help the helpless," Fred interjected automatically before blushing.

Angel continued, "This is my hotel."

"Nice place," D'Hoffryan replied and with a smirk he folded his hands together. "I suppose I have time for one last question, vampire."

Angel's eyes narrowed, obviously the demon knew more than he was saying. "I, I mean we were, um, are, looking for Naillig's Crown. Ever hear of it? Do you know where it is?"

The ancient demon thought for a moment and then laughed. "Foolish immortal. I am not a Lost and Found department. Besides, only the most inept ever ask me to look for things they already have." Then, with one last, longing glance at Willow, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What did he mean by that?" Angel wondered aloud as the smoke cleared. "I already have the…?" And then he was running.

The others took little notice as their debate began in earnest about the relative good of all slayers versus none.


	5. Chapter 5

_**DAY 5**_

Alan tried to concentrate. He was trying to focus on outlining his recent review of the story of Naillig's Crown. He was sure that his decision to come had been the right one, he was finally in the thick of things, but in many ways it was just as unfulfilling as sitting back in Giles' flat in England. He was still on the outside. Yes, he was finding ways to make himself useful, researching and learning yet he felt as though a veil still hung between his world and the one in which his mentor and the others lived. He struggled to find a way around the barrier, because he had seen the shadows and knew that there were things beyond his world. He ached to understand them.

Just now, though, he was finding it increasingly hard to work, because not only was he battling his own frustration, he was being watched. Andrew had made his way through the kitchen where Alan sat at the breakfast table still littered with mugs and plates. The younger man had gotten himself a cup of coffee as an excuse to stay in the room. Now he stood, leaning against the counter, forgotten cup in hand, his eyes never leaving the likeness of the blonde demon he had admired.

Frustrated, Alan threw down his pen and lay open his hands loudly on the tabletop. "What?" he demanded.

Andrew jumped, then in a vain attempt to hide his curiosity, raised the cup to his lips only to yelp with pain upon heedlessly discovering how hot the liquid actually was.

"Wart," Alan shook his head.

"No, um, well, I was just…." Andrew set the cup down and slid into another chair at the table with Alan. "It's just that you're so much like him."

Alan turned his head and drew a bead on the nervous man with a calculating eye. "Am I?" he asked.

"Well…not so much like him as _like_ him. You look like him, I mean. And, you are a little, kind of…um…scary."

Alan hid a wry smile. If only this twit knew. "You're bonkers."

Andrew looked hurt then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "No, but Spike was crazy once." Alan raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yes," Andrew sensing a reluctant curiosity in Alan began with a knowing air, "it was before my friend and I returned from Mexico where we had been hiding out incognito. That's…Cognito's not the name of the place, you know. The place was called Los Calabazos, which meant something good because the owner said it suited us when we checked in. Anyway," the young blonde shook his head and started his tale anew, "Buffy found Spike in the basement of the high school, acting all Ophelia-esque. He had lost his mind after getting his soul and falling victim to the First who was using a song to trigger him, making him hunt as a vam-pyre again."

Alan stared at Andrew, wondering what to ask first. He chose, "Spike got a soul?"

"Yes!" Andrew's movements grew more animated, "He went on a quest and won one from a demon who lived in a cave in Africa."

Alan thought about Spike. The man he'd tracked through over a century's worth of family stories and Watcher's volumes. In everything he'd learned about vampires, there was nothing to indicate the desire to obtain their lost souls. Each new fact about Spike was like seeing a glimmer of light on a moonless night, except then you wonder if you saw it at all. Then his expression darkened, "But…he was huntin' again?"

"Oh yes, 10 or 20 people, from what I gather. But he wasn't responsible. He was triggered, as I said, by a song. Something about maidens in the morning. His mother used to sing to him when he was but a child back in dear old foggy Londontown."

"Early one mornin', before the sun was risin'," Alan began to sing softly. Andrew gasped, wide eyed. "M'own mum'd sing it to me. Seems it was a family tradition. So, what happened, with him huntin' and all?"

"Oh, well, Buffy stopped him."

"Stopped him? 'S obvious she didn't stake him."

"Oh no, Buffy would never…she…," Andrew said the words with as little jealousy as possible, "she was in love with him."

After Buffy's display the previous day, Alan wasn't completely caught off guard by this comment, but he was still looking for answers. "A Slayer? In love with a vampire?"

"Opposites always attract, like Ying and Yang, Roger and Jessica Rabbit, Batman and Catwoman. Yes, they were in love. But, really I'm not sure how true to those titles either of them was anymore." Andrew continued, absorbed by this train of thought, "Truly Spike was no longer a vampire in the original sense of the word. He hadn't killed any humans he hadn't been tricked into killing, for several years, by choice. He had overcome the bloodlust that holds most of that kind in a cycle of thrill and need for thrill. I believe that through Buffy he found the desire and the strength to overcome his base nature, to break free of his demon and to become a man again."

"Very romantic," Alan chucked and Andrew straightened in his chair.

"Buffy really wasn't a Slayer any more either."

"Yeah, read 'bout it. Quit when Travis put her to trial."

"Yes, well, from what I've heard she did quit working for the council officially, but in her heart, she was still a Slayer until she died again. When she came back she was changed, at least from what I've heard. I didn't meet her until shortly after her…regeneration. Anyway she continued staking vamp-yres, but she was also struggling with finding herself. She was a reluctant Slayer, lost and unsure. In many ways Buffy and Spike were kind of like, in the same lifeboat in a whirlpool. The world called them to act one way, but when they were together the rest of the world disappeared. Alone they were no longer what their titles demanded, so instead of blood and violence, they shared of themselves. As Spike drew upon Buffy's strength to conquer his demon, Buffy also found his search for humanity proof that it could be done, and if by him, then she knew she could rediscover hers as well. And the more they grew, the faster and higher their flame burned until…" Andrew's voice had risen as his story flowed and when he stopped he found himself emoting in the kitchen. He lowered his arms self-consciously.

Alan asked, "Until?"

"Well, it was doomed, wasn't it? History has shown that life can support a passionate love or a passionate life, not both. If the First hadn't closed in, they might have found happiness, but it was all too much. Something had to give." Alan shook his head. "What?" Andrew was hurt. You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I'm sure you believe it, but seems to me that dangerous people leadin' dangerous lives, some are gonna die, that's it."

Andrew sat back and thought. He had spent the last few years watching the world around him and had learned a few things, regardless of what they thought of him. He had risen from being an obscure little brother, to one of the Trio, had ridden the wave of evil that had crashed over him when he'd killed his best friend. When he had shattered, the Scoobies had taken him in and under their watchful eye he had however crudely, carved out a niche for himself within their world. He looked at Alan who, although he resembled the man that Andrew had grown to cherish, couldn't understand. "No. You're wrong, my friend." Andrew stood up and pushed in his chair slowly under the kitchen table. "When you've stood side by side with a friend and watched them accept death for the greater good, seen them sacrifice themselves for a cause, then maybe you'll begin to understand what it is the world demands of it's superheros."

Alan watched thoughtfully as Andrew left the room and wondered again what lay behind the veil.

#####

Buffy had made up her mind already. Despite the loss of her own Slayer abilities and the potential danger in leaving herself defenseless for the first time in years, it was necessary to reverse the Slayer spell. There were millions of girls at danger who didn't even know it, and that was worse than any apocalypse she'd ever had to fight back. It was, after all, her decision as always, to sacrifice Buffy for the greater good. She could take that risk for herself, had already committed to doing so. It was easy when your heart was in so much pain to invite it to end. But this time the others were involved, particularly Faith was at jeopardy. So Buffy had stepped outside as the debate raged on in the next room.

"Uh, hi."

Buffy turned to see Dawn entering the terrace and closing the door behind her. "Hiya," she answered.

"Can we talk for a minute?" the younger Summers girl obviously had something on her mind.

"Of course, Dawnie. Any time. Let's sit down." They walked to the bench where Angel and she had talked about sparkling. They'd been so busy, that seemed so long ago. "What's up?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize again about that thing with Spike." Dawn looked down at her hands, carefully folded in her lap. "It really was my idea, you know."

"Your idea, his doing. I know. I get it. It's okay."

"I miss him too, Buffy. He was like my big brother, part of our family." Buffy closed her eyes. No matter how much pain she felt there was always more. "Seeing Alan just brought it all…I wish I had told him how much…," Dawn sniffed.

Buffy reached out and took her hand. "You know how people sometimes put us together in a sentence? They'll say "those Summers girls" or "the Summers sisters"? And how our blood is the same? Remember?" Dawn nodded, she'd noticed. "Spike always said he could see right through me. Knew exactly when I was lying, about what and why. It was uncanny how he knew what I was thinking before I thought it. I bet that he could do that with you too. I'm pretty sure he knew how you felt about him even before you did."

"You think?" Dawn sniffed again.

"Guarantee it."

"I hope so."

The two sisters sat in the garden holding hands and remembering their friend.

"Buffy?" Dawn broke the silence. "I understand about the spell. But it's dangerous." Buffy nodded in agreement. "And I'm afraid. We have so little left, you and I. Please don't leave me again."

Buffy hugged her little sister strongly, "I'm not planning on going anywhere. Most I'll lose is the Slayer title and that's been wearing a little thin lately. Okay? I trust Willow. It'll all be for the good."

Dawn nodded with very little certainty. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Back atcha. I never thought I'd get used to having a little sister…but you're my world, you know?" They sat back on the bench and watched the sun set. Silence gathered around them as night fell. Dawn longed to talk to Buffy about Alan, and how everything in their lives seemed to be leading them somewhere…final, but just sitting still seemed enough for now.

The door to the terrace opened softly and Faith stuck her head out. "Buffy? You out here?"

Buffy and Dawn both stood up. "Right here," Buffy answered, giving Dawn's hand one last squeeze. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh. We're set up in the dining room, best size and location for the spell."

"Be right there."

"Okay. Gotta do it soon." Faith looked at Dawn, "Sorry, kid, just the principals this time. You're going to have to wait out here."

Wanting to argue, but knowing it was futile, Dawn nodded. With one last hug for her sister, Buffy followed Faith into the hotel.

As they approached the doors to the dining room, Faith paused and turned back to Buffy. "We've had some crazy ideas in the past, B, but this is the worst. I argued with both our Watchers loud and long against this idea. A world without Slayers? What's that about? I mean, I get it in theory, but hell…. And, between you and me? I'm just plain scared."

Buffy thought of all the things she could say. She could repeat the arguments about how it was necessary, how it was their duty, about sacred responsibility toward fellow man. But in the end she said what she felt. "Me too. But not doing it…would be wrong."

Faith flashed Buffy a smile and said, "Thanks B. I knew you could clear this up for me."

Robin stopped them as they made their way to the dining room. Looking worriedly at the brunette Slayer he now adored, he asked, "So you're going to go through with this?"

Faith hesitated, then reached out and kissed Robin impulsively. "Gotta do the right thing by all those girls, Rob. This one's not about me."

"Everything's ready," Andrew called from down the hall where he had been assisting in preparing the space for the reversal spell.

"That's our cue," Buffy said softly, edging her way toward where Willow waited. Slowly Faith released Robin from one last hug and then she followed Buffy toward their new destiny, whatever that was.

#####

The shades had been drawn and all of the tables and chairs removed to another part of the hotel. Andrew had closed the doors and the Hyperion's large guest dining room was now empty except for Willow, Faith, Buffy, the scythe and the heady aroma of some powerful incense. Willow planned to draw energy from the other two, finessing her magic, trying to avoid tearing power from the others as she had from Kennedy the time before. The three women knelt in a circle around the scythe, holding hands as Willow began.

#####

Angel ran breathlessly into the lobby of the Hyperion late that night carrying his life in his hands, or rather, Cordy's life. He sensed the power of the spell in the next room, but knew that it was going to happen with or without him. "Wes! Giles! Where are you?"

The two Watchers had sent the rest of the crowd to bed and had since then been wearing a pathway outside the dining room with only Robin and Andrew as company. Relieved to have something else to think about, they arrived at Angel's side within seconds. Pulling a black velvet bundle from under his coat, Angel placed it gently on the reception counter. The three men huddled around the object as Angel pulled back the layers of fabric to reveal an intricate, ancient circlet of gold.

"Oh, my God." Giles exclaimed. "You've found it!" and he was at a loss for words.

"Naillig's Crown? I never really believed… I thought it was a metaphor," Wesley's voice trailed off as he began to examine the delicately carved designs that decorated the Crown, sacred to long ago peoples, "It's beautiful."

"I don't much care what it looks like," Angel dismissed the art appreciation class. "Will it work?"

"But where? How?" Giles sputtered.

"Wolfram and Hart have very big vaults, and very good records. It was there all along." Wesley looked up at his boss with a mixture of surprise and revulsion on his face. He didn't think he'd ever get used to having resources, or the idea of who supplied those resources. "So, what next? We just place it on her head, right?"

Giles gave the others instructions to call them back if anything happened, as Wes was already halfway to the library for the text. Within moments he returned with the small volume open to the appropriate section. "It says only that once the crown was placed upon the head of the Eldest, and that she arose to save her People."

"Okay, well, let's get to it then." Angel picked up the gold headdress from the counter, surprised at how light something could be and still contain such hopes, such power. He took the steps three at a time and when the two Watchers arrived moments later, he was already kneeling at Cordy's bedside.

#####

Dawn stayed in the garden for a while after Buffy left, feeling helpless, alone and very much the frightened little girl she ought to have been instead of the tired young woman she'd become. She stared up at the sky.

"_Star light_

_Star bright,_

_First star I see tonight__…" _

Suddenly, another, deeper voice finished her poem,

"_I wish I may, _

_I wish I might, _

_Have this wish I wish tonight__." _

Dawn spun toward the voice only to find her face covered by a chloroformed handkerchief. As his minions gathered up the unconscious girl, Magus laughed, "Bet mine comes true first."

#####

Wisps of silver smoke began to encircle the triad of women kneeling in the center of the room, their shapes undulating, materializing and disappearing seemingly at random. Buffy kept silent but watched intently as the clouds congealed at the center of power and subtle pulsation of lights illuminated them more and more erratically. The ceiling and walls seemed to recede as the spell took more and more space.

Faith's eyes darted from scythe to witch to Buffy, taking everything in, ready for anything, fearful and yet defiant as always.

A vortex formed within the cloud above them, spinning slowly at first, then building speed. The pulsating lights above them began instead to flicker and crackle with power..

Willow was focusing on the spell, concentrating all her power on retrieving the worldwide supply of Slayer blueprints.

The twirling elements above them continued to grow in strength and as the two slayers watched, the Scythe that had lain on the floor began to mimic the motion of the clouds, spinning clockwise with more and more intensity, until it looked more like a spinning power saw than anything else. Then the blade began to levitate, threatening to decapitate all of them if their circle had been just inches smaller. It rose until it met the clouds and the lightning contained in them flashed off the metal, striking it and sending showers of sparks down on the women.

Buffy turned her head to shield her eyes from errant sparks and only then realized that Willow was deep in a trance, repeating the same entreaty over and over again, "Return to the Source".

Looking down at her arms Buffy saw that they were covered with tiny beads of moisture. The moisture, however, was not emanating from the clouds, but from within herself. She watched as another bead formed near her right elbow and realized she could feel it being drawn from her, out of her, and pulled toward the center of the spell. Looking over at Faith, she saw the same phenomenon on her as well. "It's sucking us dry," she thought briefly, "We'll all be piles of dust when this is over."

Then it was. Over.

The clouds began to disperse rapidly, scuttling toward the now reappearing walls. The Scythe fell from what was certainly a much greater height than a ceiling would have been and landed with a "whoosh" and a loud clanging on the tiled floor, bouncing once and then settling at Willow's feet.

After a few moments of silence, Buffy realized that their hands were still clasped, nearly fused to each other, and began to wriggle her way free of the circle toward a light switch.

With the introduction of electric light, Willow blinked, now coming out of her trance. "What happened?" she asked with effort.

"Wow," Faith uttered, looking brushing off her legs as she stood. She had never been present during one of Willow's major spells before, only known that she was capable of them. "Wow," she repeated.

Willow turned her gaze toward Buffy at the light switch, "Well? Did it work?"

Buffy did the only thing she could think of to test the theory. She punched the wall. It hurt. Her knuckles began to bleed and the wall was none the worse for wear. Nodding she reported, "Looks like you've single-handedly done what vampires haven't accomplished in over 50,000 years. You've eliminated the Slayer line, Wils."

#####

Upstairs, kneeling at her side, Angel was vaguely aware that he was looking like Cordelia Chase's Prince Charming, but he didn't care. His only thought was bringing her back, so that he could look into her eyes and tell her he loved her, at last. Wes and Giles huddled at the door, torn between their duty to their Slayers, in the midst of a powerful spell, and witnessing the results of using the legendary Crown. Rationalizing that the spell had only just begun, they watched silently as Angel gently tamed a stray hair that had fallen across Cordelia's nose. He looked down at the sleeping visage and hesitated.

Angel wasn't sure what she would do when she awoke. Everything had been going so badly when she'd "disappeared". Connor, Jasmine, Wolfram and Hart…everything in their lives had influenced them apart. Not just demons or evil plots, but disruptions of their hearts and very souls. Would she even remember him? Have any feelings toward him at all? Would she return as the heartless creature she'd become? He rubbed a hand over his face. Suddenly tentative, he looked back at the Watchers for advice.

They both shrugged and Giles humbly offered, "No time like the present."

"Yeah," Angel muttered, "I guess platitudes are all you can get this far out on the limb." He shook his head. There was nothing but to do it. Wes stepped forward and slipped himself behind Cordelia, lifting her gently into a sitting position where she rested against his chest. Angel took a deep breath, as he ceremoniously raised Naillig's Crown between his two hands and lowered it gently onto Cordelia's head.

#####

Dawn awoke with a start. She lay handcuffed, face down on a cot inside what appeared to be a prison cell. "Aha," a masculine voice sighed. "Awake at last, eh?"

Dawn's foggy brain tried to look at the other being, but her muscles wouldn't listen. Instead she only managed to see the bottom 3 feet of her prison. There was a cot, a sink, a stool and a toilet. "All the comforts of home?" the large man suggested with a smirk. Peering out between the bars as best she could, she saw two tree trunks, which she quickly identified as her jailer's legs but, try as she might, she couldn't raise her eyes to his face. Looking beyond the man's bulk, she saw that her room stood within a larger room that appeared to be a warehouse of some kind.

A single dim bulb hung from the ceiling outside her cell but, although the light hurt her eyes, she tried once more to see the face of the man outside. When she failed, she asked, "Who?" Her voice sounded raspy and cracked.

"Who? Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Let's just say that we had a mutual acquaintance a few years ago. You were on…speaking terms…with my sister."

Dawn shook her head futilely, "Sister?" She knew that word.

All that followed was a malevolent silence so deep that when footfalls suddenly rang through the room, they frightened Dawn more completely than she would have thought possible. The large man turned toward the sound and smiled. "She's awake," he announced with something like pride.

Dawn tried to raise her head, or to turn over so that she could see the oncoming menace and failed once more. As her head fell back to the thin mattress beneath her, two small, highly polished and finely detailed men's shoes appeared in her vision. The tops of the shoes were brushed by tailored pants which sported a crease that would 'cut paper' as her mother used to say. As she watched the new visitor squatted down to look her in the eye. "There you are, my dear. So nice to see you again."

#####

Rouj paced back and forth, walking sentry outside the building where his master… no… companion… was with that strange little man. They had captured something and taken it inside instead of killing it this time. No matter. If eating was not on the agenda, then Rouj preferred it outside anyway, the night air was refreshing, the stars and moon tantalizing and other prey was always nearby. And yet….

There was something in the air, something familiar, but…not. What was it about the smell of the thing they had trapped that was haunting him? Raising his hackles and putting him on edge? He paused and sniffed again without finding an answer, so he scratched an ear and resumed his patrol, reminding himself that fear was his enemy's dominion, not his.

An unlucky rat ran across the lot where the animal paced. Killing always made him feel better…but tonight, as Rouj enjoyed the satisfying crush of rodent bones between his teeth, he wondered what memories he might find behind the floodgates he'd closed so long ago.

#####

When the room had cleared of smoke and other effects, Faith stood uneasily, wondering what to do next. She had been a Slayer for…well as long as she cared to remember and with her powers gone…. She struggled to maintain a carefree attitude, but suddenly everything was awkward. She felt ….weak…. and she didn't like it.

"It worked!" Willow cried startling the others out of their thoughts. "I didn't know… I mean, I thought it would but…. That was amazing!"

The three were speechless for another moment, then Buffy turned and opened the door to the dining room to tell the Watchers that they were out of work. "Giles! Wes? Hey guys, where are you?" She'd expected to find them plastered to the other side of the door, but they were nowhere to be found. Instead they heard a call from the lobby.

"Dawn?" Fred called, her voice filled with annoyance. When Buffy, Faith and Willow arrived, Fred was walking back towards the kitchen to look for Dawn there, for the third time.

"What's going on?" Buffy asked hurriedly.

Fred jumped at Buffy's words. "Oh, gosh. You startled me. I just…I'm looking for Dawn. You haven't seen her, have you? She was supposed to help me make dinner and she's disappeared."

"She probably just ditched you for a better offer then," Faith suggested, but Buffy was instantly concerned.

"That's what I was th…," Fred began but was interrupted

"She's missing?"

"Well," Fred equivocated for Buffy's sake, "I don't know that she's missing. Just that I can't find her and I've been through the place three times already."

"I left her out in the garden. Have you checked there?"

"I called and called," the young scientist replied, but Buffy was already running out.

"Dawn!" the ex-Slayer shouted as she burst through the French doors to the darkened garden. "Dawnie!" There was no answer. Willow, Faith and Fred followed her out into the night. "How long were we in there?" Buffy demanded of Willow.

"No more than 'alf an 'our, I think. Wasn't long." Alan answered as he joined the group. He had heard them calling for Dawn and had followed them hoping for an opportunity to take part. Maybe even help.

"Damn. Okay then, one more search of the hotel top to bottom. Everybody helps – call the others." Buffy turned to rush back into the hotel when something caught her eye. Footprints in the dirt. "Whose are these?" she asked anyone who was within earshot.

"Those are certainly large," Fred pointed out. "And surprisingly deep." I don't believe anyone within the hotel would be capable of this kind of signature step."

Buffy fell to her knees, scouring the area for more clues. Fred ran for flashlights while Faith and Alan checked the perimeter fence. After only minutes they had the evidence they needed to know that Dawn had been abducted. Buffy struggled to maintain her composure, but as she examined the threads of coarse fabric they'd found, the obliterated lock at the gate and the unusual tracks throughout the garden, she had the horrible sensation that this had all happened before.

Buffy began to tremble. Without her Slayer powers how would she be able to rescue her sister? If, that is, they were ever able to discover why and where Dawn had been taken.

It was Willow that put it together first. "Oh Goddess, Buffy, with everything else that's happened since… we just forgot. We all forgot."

"Forgot? Forgot what?" Alan asked for Buffy who was speechless with worry.

"We all forgot that Dawn is the Key."

#####

Nothing happened for long seconds after the crown came to rest on the top of Cordy's head. The three men simply stared at the motionless woman in the bed and those who were breathing, barely did that. Angel, whose hopes had been the highest, finally lowered his gaze from Cordy's face. He picked up one of her tiny hands and enveloped it in both of his, raising her fingertips to his lips. "Cordy," he whispered.

"I am so sorry," Giles offered to Angel. "We'll keep looking. There must be some…." But the words caught in his throat. "Angel!" he managed to squeak. When he heard his name and the way it was said, Angel's head snapped upright and he found himself looking into Cordelia Chase's beautiful hazel eyes.

"Angel?"

For a moment Angel couldn't feel anything except his lack of a heartbeat. His hands and body went numb and brain function was definitely in question.

"Angel? What happened?"

The amazed vampire finally found his tongue, "Cordy? Cordelia. I… Is it you?"

"Well, of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"That's a very, very interesting question. There are whole worlds of possibility."

"What are you talking about?" Cordy's gaze fell to the men at the door. "Wes? What is this teary-eyed vampire talking about?"

"Well…," the younger watcher began and then stopped himself. "Teary-eyed?"

"No, wait," Angel interrupted, making no pretence at hiding his emotion. "There's something I have to tell Cordy first. Before anything else gets explained or said, or done, either for, by or to anybody."

"Cordelia…," Angel straightened his back and looked back at the face of the woman he adored. It carried the unmistakable signs of the last few years of wear, of fighting demons and vampires, of managing Angel Investigations, of losing loved ones and losing herself. It was a good face full of miracles, one he wanted to be able to look at forever. She was looking back at him with eyes full of questions, and hope. For a moment it was as if the whole of the world consisted of these two people.

"Angel!" Fred's voice pierced the walls of the old hotel and with an edge of panic thrown in, everyone, even Angel, was distracted from what had been happening in the small bedroom. Moments later, frantic footfalls were heard on the stairs and Fred appeared at the doorway. Without a glance at Cordy she blurted out, "Dawn's been kidnapped."

Angel was on his feet instantly. "Taken? By whom? When?"

"Yes. By Glory. Just now."

Giles blinked, "Glory?"

Being called to duty just as he was about to pledge his undying, literally, devotion to Cordelia, was not exactly how he had planned the evening and Angel stood at her bedside, torn. Wesley stepped up, "I'll stay with her and catch her up on what's been happening. You go, Giles. Angel, go. It's Dawn."

Giles turned and ran out the door. With one last apologetic look at Cordy, Angel bent down and kissed her cheek, lingering and hoping that she might guess his intentions even though he hadn't had time to voice them. Then he was gone.

When her room had cleared, except for her English ex-watcher friend, Cordy called weakly from her bed. "Wes? What's going on?"

Running his fingers roughly through his hair, Wesley coughed, gathered his thoughts, moved to sit by her bedside and began, "Well, how far back do you remember? Do you remember when Darla was brought back from the dead?"

#####

In the time it took for Angel to reach the lobby, Buffy had pulled herself together and gone from helpless to angry. His rush into the room was halted suddenly by the power of the emotion encased within the diminutive blonde that stood in his path. Giles was not far behind and it was to him that Buffy first spoke. "Giles, they have her again."

"Buffy, I promise you, it cannot be Glory."

"No? We have the evidence. Fibers from the minions' robes, heavier than thou footprints, stronger than thou strength…and a need for the Key. All the same signs."

"But…but, it's is absolutely impossible. I promise you," the Watcher argued.

"How can you know that, Giles? It must…," Buffy argued.

"Because, Buffy, I killed her…uh, him."

"You what?" was chimed from all around the room.

"After Buffy had defeated Glory and she lay on the ground at the base of the tower, she, well, turned back into Ben and I took the opportunity to…um…" He paused again and looked down before answering, " …eliminate a future threat."

There was stunned silence throughout the room. Although many had guessed at the ruthlessness of the man who used to be known as 'Ripper', they hadn't suspected any such behavior still possible of the quiet Englishman they thought they knew.

"It was the only rational choice," Giles looked up defiantly, defending his action succinctly. "So you see. This cannot be the handiwork of Glorificus. Impossible."

Alan, who had joined the gathering group of worried team members, turned to Buffy "Glorificus?"

"She was a goddess that we defeated last year, no, two years ago. She was strong, solid, powerful and beautiful and she wanted Dawn because she was the key to the portal that led to her own world. It was her portal that killed me."

"Magus," Angel offered. The rest looked at him. "The huge guy with the dog, remember? He fits the description of the footprints to a tee. Except he didn't say 'Key'."

Buffy announced, "Well, I'm going to find them."

"Buffy," Xander spoke up, "you can't go out there. You aren't as strong as you used to be, remember? No more Slayer power. Whoever it is will have you for a tasty snack."

"Okay," Buffy snapped back, "then I'll just find them and call in the cavalry. And, in case you're wondering, that's you guys."

"But Buffy, you don't have a…" Buffy stormed out of the Hyperion in search of her sister before Angel could finish, "…plan."

Faith took one last glance around the room at the faces full of doubt, then turned and unhesitatingly followed Buffy out the doors. Willow, Xander, Angel and Gunn were right on their heels.

Alan watched them leave thoughtfully and then turned to his employer, "Giles, can we talk? I think there's somethin' else we should consider."


	6. Chapter 6

_**DAY 6**_

Dawn shifted her weight so that she could look into the eyes of whoever was holding her captive. Suddenly she was glad she was lying down because the room began to spin as she faced the same evil that had confronted her at the top of Glory's tower just two years earlier. "Doc," she managed.

"Ah, so you remember me. That's nice. It's been such a long time since we were…together."

Dawn's anger stabilized her world and she found the strength to sit upright on her cot. "Buffy will save me," was all she said.

"No. Not this time, I should think." The demon's eyes grew large and his tongue flicked inquisitively as he spoke. "Have you met my friend, Magistericos? Magistericos, this is Dawn."

"Is she important?" the god's commanding voice rumbled in the empty room.

Doc continued to stare at Dawn as Magus spoke. He contemplated his answer. "Not really important, Magistericos. She is, after all, simply a vessel. Although I do find her…interesting."

"Bah," the god grew impatient. "So shall we complete the ritual now?"

Doc stood upright and turned his gaze from Dawn to Magus for the first time. Smiling, he answered, "All in due time, my lord. All in due time."

From her now upright position, Dawn saw that the small demon was dwarfed by the size of the god, and, although he was deferential, Dawn did not find it hard to discern who was in charge. Obviously there was something more to this than met the eye.

"Magistericos?" Doc was asking. "Have you acquired the Crown as yet?"

"The Crown? Damn. No. That miserable excuse for a vampire hasn't brought it to me."

"Ah," Doc sighed. "And yet, even as we speak, its power surges through the air. Can you feel it?"

The larger man looked around the room as though he might be able to see sparks of energy surrounding them. "Uh, no."

Doc shook his head sadly. "Well, this is why you need me then. I am telling you, that the Crown has been activated. Most likely for a purpose they have chosen. They have obviously discovered some of its potential. You need to retrieve the Crown now Magistericos, or the Ritual is in danger."

A roar filled the air and Dawn ears rang from the sudden noise. She turned her head towards the source of the sound she saw Magus running out the door and heard an answering howl from outside the building. The door slammed shut, leaving her trapped with the small demon, a circumstance she did not relish as memories of the injuries he had given her flooded back. It even seemed that the scars he had given her had begun to throb in response to his proximity. She rubbed her abdomen.

"Do they still hurt?" He was looking at her again with those unusual eyes.

"No," Dawn lied.

Doc nodded, knowing it was a lie, and strode to a table on the other side of the room which had been hidden before by Magus' bulk. "Tea?"

"No."

"Suit yourself." Doc sat down, carefully preserving the crease in his suit pants and proceeded to pour himself a drink from a minion-offered teapot. "I don't believe we will have long to wait, at least. Magus is not one to procrastinate. He will return shortly."

"Who is he?" Dawn squeaked. "Is he Glory?"

Doc dipped his teaspoon into the sugar bowl, and stirred his tea, "Heavens no, child. He is Glory's brother…let me put it this way…The Big Billy Goat Gruff." He chuckled to himself at the literary reference.

"Oh," Dawn was trying to process information but her head was still swimming. "And that makes you, what? The Little Billy Goat Gruff?"

The cup of tea in Doc's hand stopped halfway to his mouth and he smiled. "Well, that remains to be seen, doesn't it?"

#####

Buffy, Faith and the others straggled back into the Hyperion at daybreak, unsuccessful, dirty, tired and frustrated. "Buffy," Angel was saying, "We all need to get some rest. Your strongest team member is a vampire and I can't be out during the day. Let's regroup, sleep, and we'll go out again at dusk."

"No, Angel. I have to find her. I understand that I'm not a Slayer any more, but I have to be strong for my sister. I'll take a little nap, grab some breakfast and then head out with a fresh team. There are enough of us. We can handle it, even without you."

They stood arguing in the lobby but as Buffy finished, the silence around them grew palpable and suddenly both Buffy and Angel became acutely aware of their surroundings. The floor around them was strewn with debris. Lost in their debate they hadn't noticed the door hanging off its hinges or the scattered books and antiques.

"What happened?" Angel asked no one in particular. A groan answered him from the other side of the counter. "Lorne!" Angel leapt over the counter and brushed plaster and blood from his friend's face and helped him to his feet. "What? Who?"

Lorne leaned heavily on the counter, unable to stand on his own. He reached for his head where one horn was badly broken and moaned again. "I don't know. He was just…here. And huge. And he wanted…." But before he could finish, Angel was up the stairs. "…the Crown."

On the stairs Angel knelt for a moment over the unmoving bodies of Chao-Ann and Caridad. They had obviously been surprised by Magus in his search for the Crown. 'Hell,' Angel thought, 'How could I have left this unfinished? This is my fault. I let myself get complacent because there are so many of us, and I got distracted by…,' "Cordy!" he cried aloud and he took the remaining steps three at a time.

The room was empty. Angel threw open the door to the adjoining bathroom, nothing. "Cordy!" he shouted frantically again. Then he noticed that the door to the room across the hall was ajar. He stood in front of it for a moment and realized he smelled blood from the other side. He swung the door open. Wes lay on the floor there, unconscious but breathing. Blood was pooling around him, pouring out from a serious puncture wound in his side. "Wes?" Angel stepped into the room, but the young Watcher could not answer.

Suddenly the door to the restroom in the suite opened. Cordelia stepped out, wringing water from a cloth. "About time too, Angel. Where have you been? We were under attack!" She bent over Wesley and applied the cloth to his head, reaching into her pocket where she had stuffed bandages from the first aid kit kept in each medicine cabinet and began to clean and dress the injury.

"Cordy, you shouldn't…," Angel began. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, Wesley defended me gallantly. And who the hell else is 'gonna'?" she countered. "You weren't here! Or haven't I made that abundantly clear?"

"I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Is he going to be alright?" Angel indicated his friend now bound together by Cordy's bandages. With a shake of her head, Cordy indicated she wasn't sure. "Where are the others?" Angel asked next.

"Giles and Alan – and, boy, did he give me a surprise - were here a few minutes ago, but left to try and track them back to their hiding place…whoever 'them' is. Fred went downstairs for more dressings, the girls – and, by the way, will someone PLEASE tell me what the hell has been going on with the whole Slayer thing because Wesley hadn't finished - were mostly in their rooms, but I'm afraid a couple of them were…."

"I know, I saw." Angel sighed.

"Somebody named Kennedy was out Wes said, and I'm fairly certain poor Lorne was…," she sniffed.

"No, no, he's going to be alright. He's a resilient old demon."

"Oh, thank God." Cordy began to shake. "Look at me," she held out trembling fingers for Angel to see, "I'm falling apart."

Angel pulled Cordy to her feet and into an unmistakable embrace, holding her tightly, protectively. "No you're not." He leaned back from her shoulder and cupped her face with his hand. "You've just woken up from a very long dream. I assume that Wes told you what's been going on?" Cordy nodded. "See, and you're handling it just great. Most people would have fallen apart long ago." Just then he noticed something. "The Crown. You're not wearing it?"

Reaching up to her head, Cordy realized what he was asking her and what it meant. "No, it seems that once it revived me, I didn't need to wear it any more. Giles rewrapped it in the velvet and I put it in the drawer of my nightstand."

Angel rushed back across the hallway, they found the drawer, flung into the corner of the room and the velvet in a discarded heap on the floor, but the Crown was gone.

"Looks like they got what they came for, again."

"First Dawn, now the Crown?" Cordy asked.

"Yep," Angel mused. "But what do they want?"

"The same thing as always," Buffy answered the question from the doorway where she stood with Giles and Alan. "Power."

#####

"You sent him after the Crown? We don't have it. We were looking for it too…but couldn't…," Dawn offered. "Besides, even if we did, Buffy'd whip his ass."

"Have you forgotten?" Doc continued. "She couldn't 'whip' Glory and Magus has no weak human counterpart to contain or distract him."

Dawn struggled to make sense of the situation. "But, but, if he's after the same thing as Glory, and you already have me, what's the Crown for? You didn't need anything like that the last time."

Doc turned his head toward her thoughtfully. "My, my. You are a curious girl. Well, Magus believes it is meant to house the power source that will focus the Ritual."

"But it's not?"

"A good question. One that will be answered in time."

Just then the door to the prison flew open. "Success!" shouted Magus. "We have the Crown!" Cheers arose from the scattered minions in the room, and from those battle-scarred ones that followed Magus victoriously into the room as Magus stood holding the circlet of gold aloft for all to see.

Doc's face registered momentary surprise, and then he recovered. "Well, well. Congratulations are in order, my lord. You have obtained the final piece, and so quickly. Was there no battle?"

"The battle was of no consequence. The vampire and the Slayer were not present. We chose our time of attack wisely."

"You are a master of war, Magistericos," Doc feigned flattery.

"Yes, little man. I am a god, a master of all things. Now give me a throne," the large man towered over the demon ominously.

"As you wish, Magistericos. There are preparations to be made. Excuse me." Doc accepted Naillig's Crown, bowed briefly to Magus and then to Dawn. "I'll be seeing you soon," he warned her pointedly.

Dawn shuddered and did the only thing she could think of, she stuck her tongue out at the evil demon. Chuckling, he walked purposefully away.

Magus threw up his arms to the minions. "Bring me wine! Let us celebrate my glorious return to power!"

Dawn was too absorbed in the other happenings around her to have noticed Rouj. The beast had approached her cell and was looking at her with clear, piercing blue eyes, his head cocked to one side with curiosity.

#####

Willow, Fred, Giles, Alan, Buffy, Faith, and Angel sat around one of the dining room tables. Cordy was nursing Wes and Lorne upstairs and the two dead potentials were laid out in Angel's office waiting for the coroner to pick up their remains and ship them home. Robin had organized Vi, Shannon, Becca and Rona into a clean-up crew, and Gunn organized the plans for a 24-hour watch guard. Kennedy was feeling guilty for having been out during the battle and had taken on guarding the central team as her personal responsibility. She was planted outside the door. From their table they could see 'Gunn's Guards' passing the windows at frequent intervals. 'Too little, too late,' Buffy thought angrily.

"Alan is right," Giles announced, jarring Buffy's attention back to the subject at hand. "I've reread the original text and gone through my notes a number of times and it seems clear that, given what we know of Dawn and the Crown, that they are linked."

"But how?" Buffy wondered. "If Dawn was just 'created' a few years ago, then how can her fate be hooked up to Naillig's Crown which has existed for centuries?"

"Energy, like matter, exists forever. It changes form, function, density, appearance, even universes, but it always exists. Whether the Crown had lain dormant for so long that the original spell had weakened and released the energy, or the monks were near the Crown during the incantation, or they usurped the Crown's energy on purpose, we do not know. But what seems clear is that the monks tapped into the same energy in the creation of Dawn, that the 'great spirit' utilized when imbuing the Crown with its own power."

Willow nodded. She understood the tapping and utilization of energy. "But if the Crown doesn't contain its power, if it's inside Dawn for now, then how did it heal Cordy?"

"The Lazarus bit was part of the crown from the beginnin', s'in the first part of the story," Alan explained tentatively. "Was later that the peace bit was added."

"So this Magus guy is collecting the pieces, right?" Willow asked. "Why? He isn't satisfied with just the Crown, he needs the Key too. So he doesn't have to resurrect or revive anyone. But I don't think he's out to bring peace and harmony to 'the People' either."

"From what I've seen, peace and harmony is exactly what he doesn't want," Angel interjected.

"Our best guess," Giles suggested, "is that he's hoping to destroy the components of the Crown to ensure his victory. He wants to reopen the portal between the two worlds and conduct a war, and the Crown could close it again."

"A war? Why?" someone asked.

"Who knows? Revenge s'always good, or power. Does it matter?" Alan proposed.

"Wait, what do you mean 'destroy the components of the crown'?" Buffy asked, suddenly alarmed. When no one answered her she made her own assumptions. "You mean he's going to kill Dawn? But if that's all he wanted, then why go to the trouble to kidnap her?"

"Her blood. They still need her blood to open the portal and it has to be flowing, remember? They have to keep her alive," Willow reminded her.

Giles spoke up, "That is, if the blood has not been altered. There have been a lot of changes lately, first with the Slayer spell, then with the reversal. I'm not sure it'll work at all."

"And if it doesn't, little sis is toast." Faith helped. Buffy threw her a stinging glare.

"Um…," Fred's small voice seemed to echo in the quiet room. "I'm not entirely sure that Dawn's blood was altered." The others looked at her. "Well, after you all arrived, she asked me to check something for her. She hadn't taken on any of the Slayer qualities after the original spell, and she didn't understand why not. And before you jump to all sorts of parental conclusions, Buffy, that's the first question I asked her. No boys. So I ran some tests and discovered that for some reason the transformation that had taken place in all of the SITs that had changed, had not taken place in Dawn. We hadn't figured out why yet, though so…."

Giles interrupted, "So her blood may still open the portal for Magus?"

"I was going to say, 'so we didn't want to worry you'. Especially since the spell was reversed and her lack of strength wouldn't be evident anymore. But, yes, Giles, I believe that her blood may have the same power it always did."

"Well, that buys us some time, but we have to find them, and soon. Angel, have you noticed any people wandering aimlessly throughout L.A. of late?" Giles was referring to the people that had fallen under Glory's mind-sucking spell, those who had appeared insane, but who had been forced into servitude. If this god was doing the same thing they might track some unfortunate soul directly back to his lair, as they had followed Tara before.

"Watcher, this is L.A.. I'm afraid I wouldn't have noticed."

Buffy spoke up, "Giles, we have enough people, we could spare a couple to stake out some local hospitals, just in case. It's worth a shot. We know this will be happening soon."

"Yes, that's probably an excellent precaution. We'll also set up a search grid. They can't be far if they were able to attack us twice in the same night. Angel, do you have a city map?"

For the next hour they lay out a pattern for searching the neighborhoods surrounding the Hyperion and established teams consisting of a mix of human, demon and ex-slayer. When they were done, Buffy led the first team out into the city.

#####

Buffy's morning shift hadn't been able to unearth any sign of the god, Dawn, the Crown, hobbit-like minions or followers. Batting 1000, they returned to the Hyperion, at noon, having exhausted nearly a third of the search grid.

Alan followed Buffy into the hotel lobby in a fury and threw the sword he had carried across the room where it skidded to an ineffectual stop. "Bloody hell, this bleedin' city goes on forever. There's got to be a better way."

Giles, who was there to meet them, thought he understood the young man's rage. "It's often a tedious process…," but Alan had stormed off into another room, still muttering to himself.

Buffy had a headache for the same reason that Alan had thrown the sword, she was frustrated. "Giles, please don't be logical. We failed." When her Watcher began to shake his head she continued, "But we'll keep trying." Buffy slumped down on one of the sofas meant to welcome visitors and rubbed her temples. "We have no choice," she said, half to herself.

Giles and the others left the room, leaving her to her frustration. Several minutes later, Buffy heard footsteps. She didn't open her eyes, just waited.

"Sorry I blew up like that, luv."

She recognized the voice immediately. It was Spike's, but with a slightly contemporary twist, even a little more English sounding. "It's alright, Alan. We're all tired and upset."

"I had no right…she's your little sis after all. S'just…." Buffy waited. "S'just that I wanted to prove myself to you. Even a little …"

"To me? Why?"

"Cuz, luv, you're Buffy. All I've heard, seen, read, researched…lived for the last two years has been centered around Sunnydale, Buffy Summers, Dawn, Spike and their adventures. In my imagination I was here a million times to save the day, play the hero. And now that I'm really here, I…I can't seem t' do anythin'. Even Andrew holds himself better than me. I'm just a messenger boy, another liability."

Buffy opened her eyes and looked intently at Alan. "Playing the hero can get you killed."

Alan instantly realized that he'd said just the wrong thing. And raised his hands defensively in an achingly familiar gesture "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Alan spoke, hesitatingly "Tell me about 'im. Please?" Buffy's closed eyes winced with pain. "If it's not too much, I mean." He added gently.

"Actually, I'd like to," Buffy sighed. "I need to hold on to the memories and everyone else here would rather forget them, forget him." Buffy hesitated, drawing on the past. "I first saw Spike a few days before parent teacher night at Sunnydale High School the year I was a junior, in fact that was the first time he met my mom too…." She went on telling Alan her memories, for nearly two hours. They laughed and she cried. It turned out that Alan, like Spike, was an excellent listener, asking pointed questions and steering her to remember details she had already begun to forget. When she'd finished, she lay back in the chair and sighed. She felt as though a great tombstone had been lifted from her heart.

"'S amazing story, pet." He thought of telling her how alien her reality was from most of the world, how he ached to be a part of it. But knew that she was in pain and that now wasn't the time. "I fancy m'self a writer of sorts back home. Guess it runs in the family. I'd like to put it all down on paper later, if you'd let me. Kind of pick up where great-grandmum left off."

Buffy thought about it. The idea of Spike's story surviving her own made her smile. "No one will ever believe you, you know. But I'd like that, Alan." She stood up slowly. "I'm tired now though, and I think I ought to get some sleep before we go out again."

"Course. 'S'thinkin' the same thing m'self. I'll walk with ya."

When they reached Buffy's door, Alan paused. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

"Yep. In a bit," and she turned to go in her room.

"Buffy?" Something within Alan's voice stopped her. "Thanks again for tellin' me 'bout him."

Buffy smiled sadly, "Spike never stopped trying to be the best man he could be. That deserves to be remembered, don't you think?"

Without thinking of anything other than how much this woman in front of him had been hurt, and how strong she'd been and how deeply she'd loved, Alan leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "'Night, luv" he said and walked away.

But Buffy was reeling. She blinked back the tears and slipped into her room. She couldn't think. She couldn't stop thinking. Dawn, Spike, Sunnydale, Angel, Cordy, Alan, her mom, Druscilla, Magus, Doc…images and ghosts swirled endlessly through her mind. She fell on her bed and began to dream.

#####

As the day progressed, other teams returned with similar tales of failure. Giles sat at the kitchen table with Willow and Alan. They were playing war games, running scenarios, making contingency plans, things with which Buffy had little patience.

"Well, it seems that Magus has everything he wanted, Dawn's blood, the crown…. There's no reason he should wait any longer unless a time frame is dictated by the ritual as it was with Glory."

"I've run the Glory timeline over and over again on my computer and nothing seems similar to now," Willow announced. "The alignments of the stars and planets are completely different, the longitude and latitude of L.A. versus Sunnydale have skewed the directional effect of sunlight and moonlight. The dates are all wrong."

Giles suggested, "There must be something we haven't seen, some other factor in the timeline. Have you adjusted for the change in location, altitude, size difference between Magus and Glory?"

"Yes, Giles, of course, I compensated for all of that…it just doesn't make sense."

The Watcher removed his glasses and rubbed them idly as he thought. "Let's come at this from another angle. If you could choose the time of the portal opening, any time you wanted, what would you use as determining factors?"

Willow considered the question, "Well, besides the astrological portends here, I guess I'd have to determine those same factors within the reciprocal universe. Maybe there are elements within that universe that need to be collected and utilized too. Perhaps the planting seasons…."

"Bloody hell," Alan stood suddenly, frustrated. "Does all of this matter? Buffy's little sis is in danger. We ought to be findin' her. Can't you do some kind of locator spell, Red?"

"Not on Dawn. I've tried. She is neither demon nor human. And, before you ask, I can't do a spell on Magus for the same reason."

"How about a girl?" Fred stepped into the room with Gunn and the remaining potentials. They had been out together on the most recent search team.

"What do you mean?" Giles asked her.

Gunn spoke for the group, "We saw him, the big guy, Magus. He was prowling about on the East side, him and his wolf. We kept our distance, hoping he would lead us to Dawn, but he was out hunting instead. We saw him capture a girl."

"And you did bleedin' little to stop it, I see."

"We couldn't," Faith explained angrily. "We were too far away."

"But he wasn't going to kill her like he did the others. When we left she was bound and thrown over his shoulder like a sack," Gunn continued.

"We followed him as long as we dared, but he began to travel the sewers and we thought we'd be discovered down there so we returned to where he had taken the girl and found this." Fred produced a hat from her pocket. It was a small knitted hat made up of rings of color.

Willow stepped forward with a smile and took the cap from Fred's hands. "We've got him."

#####

Faith closed the door after them. She didn't turn around, but remained where she was, her head lay heavily on the back of the door. She was more than tired. And she had never felt more vulnerable.

"Faith?" Robin asked. He hadn't known her long, but knew her well enough to know that something was on her mind. And they had survived an apocalypse together, after all. With a gasp, as though she had forgotten to breathe, Faith lifted her forehead from the cold wood of the door and stood upright. "Hon, you okay?" Robin questioned, more concerned now.

"Yeah," Faith answered at last. "You bet. Never better," she turned to flash one of her best false smiles in his direction and tried to take on a Faith-typical stance of indifference.

Robin's teacher instincts kicked in. He knew she was hiding something. "No, really. What's up? We can't be hiding things from each other. This thing between us is bigger than that. At least, I hope it is"

Glad for the chance to change the direction of the conversation, Faith swaggered forward and purred. She draped her arms over his shoulders sensually one at a time, watching as they took on the shape of his body.

Robin wanted to be fooled, but he wasn't. He gently lowered her arms and asked again, "Baby, come on. Let's talk. I know you've got something besides me on your mind. What is it?" Faith started to pout and sulked away, flinging herself casually into a convenient chair. Robin followed her and knelt in front of her, waiting for her answer.

Eventually his silence paid off. "It's just…I…," Faith stumbled for words. She had never been good at 'people'. She saw, she did, she was. She had never wondered, considered or thought about complex issues like motives or consequences until recently, until a jail stint gave her nothing else to do. Now, with the onset of new dangers, the realization of what Buffy had been through as Slayer, and the loss of her own Slayer powers, Faith was forcing herself to evaluate what she had been and what she was becoming.

She looked into Robin's gentle eyes. He too was full of doubt. He had faced his biggest enemy and discovered that demons, both external and internal, could change for the better. He was on new ground too and they had clung to each other like fragile survivors of an earthquake. "I don't know who I am anymore," Faith began, more slowly now. "I mean, when I was a Slayer, things were all so clear. Bad guys? Kill 'em. Then the mayor, well, he was evil and he turned my head all around. He taught me that things could be different and it was…kinda cool. Ya know? The father I never had. Okay, evil father, but cool. I went to the dark side for a while, until Angel saved me. He dragged me back from the edge and reminded me what it was to have purpose, to have a soul."

Faith stopped and realized that Robin wasn't bored, angry, or anything other than riveted by what she said. She raised a tired finger and traced the outline of his attentive face wistfully before letting her hand fall again. "But I don't know. Who am I? I think I'm all about doing good now. The dark side was cool, but I'll never go back. Still…my power, my Slayer power's been taken away and I can't be what I feel I was meant to be without it." A stray tear made it's way down her cheek.

Robin face softened and took her small hands in his. "Growing up the son of a Slayer, I became obsessed by the mystery of being chosen, by destiny. I started out trying to prove that my mother had had no choice, that her fate had been thrust upon her by some accident of birth. Now, though, I believe that within _every_ man, or a woman there is a vocation, a calling, but most people don't hear their call and they live their lives out unfulfilled, empty. Others turn a deaf ear and ignore their fate, electing instead to live a life of their own choosing, like me. Maybe my calling _was_ to be a teacher, but I chose to make it revenge instead. We deaf ones grow angry and bitter with age."

Faith shook her head in disbelief that Robin could be either of those things, but he continued. "The lucky ones, like my mom, like you, hon, like Buffy, like Angel, like Giles and Wesley, not only hear the call and recognize it for what it is, but you embrace it because to live without it, to live unfulfilled or bitter, would be a sentence worse than death. Those lives are the legendary ones, the lives of Slayers, kings, explorers. What you're feeling, Faith, is your calling reminding you of who you are, of your destiny."

Faith was overcome. No man had ever talked like this to her before. Men had trained her, directed her, used her, abused her, saved her, but never considered her or tried to understand the woman beneath the bravado. Had she been honest, it had probably been a two way street. But things were obviously different with Robin. Slowly she realized that here was a man whom she could allow herself to feel for, open up to, to love. He was kneeling before her and saying, "I hope that there's some place in your legend for me."

Leaning forward in the chair, she stared at Robin for a full minute before she kissed him.

#####

Kissing. Oh, God. Good kissing. Buffy couldn't breathe. Her eyes were closed and there were lips and there were hands and bodies and…oh, the kissing. Suddenly it stopped and she whimpered longingly. "Luv, even if I don't, you've gotta breathe." Her eyelids slid open and met smiling blue eyes, which dipped sensuously as he lowered his lips to her shoulder. Her body was screaming with need and desire, mixed with desperation and infinite loss.

"Spike?" she managed to murmur hazily.

Raising his eyes to hers once more, he answered, "'s me, pet."

"Missed you," her bedroom voice moaned.

"Missed you too," he whispered before starting to kiss her again and they made love, slowly, a love more tender than ever before. This was less desperate than the night before he…before the last battle, not angry like it had been at times, not violent or selfish, it was what she had always meant it to be, or hoped it could have been.

In the aftermath, she lay cupped onto his shoulder, content and feeling fulfilled.

"Buffy?"

"Mmmm," she voiced wearily and warily.

"This is it, you know. My last conjugal visit. The time we've had was a gift. Can't ask for more."

A tear wound it's way lazily from the corner of her eye and she nodded. She knew.

"I wanted so much to be a part of your life. Do you know I even pictured you and me and Dawn in a little house with a white picket fence and…well, really heavy curtains…."

"If you wanted it so much, then I must have been the one that stopped it. But I must have known deep down that there was something between us, Spike, because I don't treat monsters like men. If I were being honest, I rarely treated men like men. I treated you like a man because that's what you were to me. Somehow all that got lost somewhere. I'm sorry."

"Well, there was that little trip to heaven that you took. Seems like we got sidetracked after that."

"Spike, can we do this right," Buffy tried to smile, "just one time before you have to leave? I'll start."

He knew what was coming, and although he was only a spirit, Spike winced with loss, then he nodded his assent.

"Spike," Buffy said carefully, making sure he heard her every word, "I love you."

Knowing his next chance to say this to her might well be decades away, Spike took Buffy's face into his hands and looked at her as he had few times before. "Buffy, I love you too."

Buffy couldn't breathe for the passion that swept over them. After a moment she began, "I wish we could've…."

"Yeah, me too. Me too, luv," the ex-vampire answered.

They lay like that, daydreaming of what might have been, not saying anything while dream time passed; time that seemed like years, or minutes, but they were together and it didn't matter a damn. Nothing mattered. They were together.

Eventually Spike gently lifted his arm out from under her head. He leaned over her and kissed her softly, timelessly on the cheek. He looked into her beautiful hazel eyes and hated what he had to say next. "Time for me t'go, pet."

She couldn't speak. Life was happening around her, things she couldn't change, couldn't kill, couldn't influence. It was like having her mom die all over again. Helplessness was not in the Slayer handbook, even if she'd ever gotten one. Spike knew she'd heard only because Buffy's body shook with emotion.

"Listen, Slayer," Spike began with more bravado than he thought possible, "You're the lucky one here. I've got to go and face the unknown and be judged for my past. You've got a clean slate, no Slayer powers, no Hellmouth…. You and Niblet, you're an ordinary family now, you'll be just fine."

"Dawn?" Buffy felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't given her missing sister a thought. "Oh my God, Spike, she's…."

"I know, she's in trouble. But you'll work this one out like ya always do. I believe in you."

Buffy found herself calmed by his confidence and her momentary fear for Dawn vanished. A dream minute later, another thought occurred to her, "Will you be there? In heaven?" Buffy's voice sounded small and childlike. Spike looked at her with doubt. "You will be waiting for me when I go back, won't you?"

Equivocating Spike began, "Well, it's not entirely up to me, luv…," but when Buffy looked up at him with alarm, he finished with conviction. He could give her that. "Uh huh, now, none o' that. All right, pet, I'll be wearin' a path behind the ol' Pearly Gates, waitin' for you. I'll take on a whole legion of angels if I have to."

Buffy smiled, despite herself and ran a finger under her nose. "I think I'd pay to see that fight."

Spike's heart twitched thinking of all the fights they'd shared and how he was going to miss them. "And I'll win it too, luv, cuz I want it more. And even the angels know you can't measure your enemies by their size, it's the size of their ambition that matters." Buffy nodded. "'Sides, like I told you in my letter, I've got a trump card. God hisself couldn't keep me out with you on my side."

Buffy threw her arms around him held him tight, willing him to stay, but knowing he couldn't. Spike reveled in the unbridled emotion for as long as he could, then gently stepped away. "So, no goodbyes then, cuz we'll be together again soon, right?" Spike ventured. "But you'll have to give me enough time to plead my case. Stay here 'til it's time." Buffy tried to collect herself and smiling bravely, she nodded again.

Spike kissed her one last time, then looking at her with more emotion than any living being could have contained, he made one last sacrifice. "Don't be lonely, Buffy. Please? I'll wait for you, and the next time we say 'I love you' it'll be forever, I promise. But listen, my time is different now, there's no 'later' or 'then' here, so I can wait. But you, pet, promise me you'll find that someone that can make you sparkle until we see each other again? I couldn't bear it if you weren't happy." Buffy began to argue but Spike stopped her.

"You might not need to look very far." With a roguish grin, he added, "That Alan's a good lookin' fella. Don't you think?"

"Spike!" Buffy started to protest but there was a knock on her door.

"Buffy? Are you up yet?"

Her eyes flew open and she gasped for breath alone in her room. Quickly she donned her bathrobe and, clutching it around her, she opened the door a crack. "Alan?"

"Rupert wants t' see you before we head out," he related. "But, can I come in for a bit first?"

"Well, I need to get…" Alan pushed open the door and walked into the room. "Sure, okay, come in." Buffy left the door open and turned toward her intruder. Maybe pissing her off was just in his blood. The thought cheered her eerily.

Alan turned to face her and Buffy fought the disorientation his presence, overlapping on Spike's last visit, brought on her. She wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand and sat on the side of the bed trying to gather her thoughts as Alan began to pace in the small room.

"I wanted to apologize, Buffy. Kissin' you earlier was bold of me. 'S just…well, everything you felt for my uncle, everything you were to each other…. I just got carried away. 'T wasn't meant to be…anything other than…. Bloody hell."

"Alan," Buffy found her voice. "Alan. Pacing. You're making me dizzy." The young man stopped in his tracks. "Now," she sighed, "the kiss was nice. It made me feel…special. It was friendly, nothing more. I get it."

Relief and a surprising amount of disappointment washed over Alan, but he wasn't going to let her know that. "Exactly," he confirmed.

Buffy raised her eyes to his and the corners of her mouth turned up sadly. "The more I get to know you, the less like your uncle you seem."

Caught off guard, Alan objected, "What do you mean?"

"If I had said that little speech to him, about the kiss, he'd have kissed me again to prove me wrong. He was stubborn."

Alan smiled, because in letting her accept their first kiss as just friendly, the same thought had occurred to him. "Well, then, as long as you understand. I meant no offence."

"None taken."

"Okay," Alan made his way to the door and hesitated. Was he starting to feel something for this woman? But now was not the time. "Right, then. I'll get the rest and we'll wait in the lobby. 'S a go in 20 minutes." Buffy nodded in understanding. "Oh, and Buffy?" She looked up to see him smiling the same roguish grin she had just seen on her lover. "If I ever do kiss you in anything other than a friendly way? I won't have to do anything to prove it to you, you'll know."

Buffy's heart pounded uncontrollably as she dressed. How was a girl to find her footing when the ground kept shifting?


	7. Chapter 7

_**DAY 7**_

Giles nodded. The theory was right. Willow and he had talked it through for a long time.

Buffy listened doubtfully. "I don't know. I hate to change alligators in mid stream…." But then, as they watched, something clicked in Buffy's head. "But, as someone very dear just told me, 'you can't measure your enemies by their size, it's the size of their ambition that matters'. I say we go for it."

Their conclusion seemed logical. More than that, it felt right. The older he got, the more he found himself relying upon old habits, old suppositions, old instincts. "Right then," Giles concluded. "We'll head out at sunset. Saving Dawn is still the main objective, but Willow, it seems that it will all be up to you in the end, again. We will research entrapment and binding spells until tonight. Meanwhile, absolutely no spells. You must conserve your energy for the battle, then, once you hold the enemy, we will retrieve the Crown and it will be over." But somehow that seemed too easy.

#####

As they neared the large, square, concrete building, Willow began to tremble. Giles steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. "Here?" he whispered.

With a quick, thankful glance in his direction and nodding, the witch looked at the building's main entrance with worry etched into every line of her young face. What if she'd done the locater spell wrong? What if the ritual time was right? What if she leading the Slayer into a new portal, towards death once again?

The main door was lit by a single, naked bulb in a steel fixture above the door. Other than the chain link fence in front of them and a couple of sodium fixtures in the parking lot that lay between them and the door, no exterior defenses were obvious. Sensing her hesitation, Giles prompted, "They don't know we're coming, they're confident and they've got everything they need. No need to waste personnel out here when they're needed inside."

Slowly, Willow rose from where she was couched with the others and straightened herself with determination. "You're right. Let's go."

Despite her unsettling lack of Slayer power, Buffy's need to do something for Dawn drew her to the front lines again. Upon hearing Willow's okay, Buffy scrambled frantically over the fence in moments, making her way to where Dawn was in danger. Xander reached into Buffy's Slayer bag which he had carried and handed Gunn wire cutters for the fence. As soon as there was an opening, Alan held aside the fencing as the others made their way through it one at a time; Xander first, then Giles, Angel, Faith, and Gunn followed by Fred, and the four remaining SITs. Everyone who had been around and able had come here, to this battleground, as soon as Willow had pinpointed it with her magic.

As pre-planned, Alan held back, taking up the rear guard position in case the fence had been alarmed after all. Buffy had stationed herself at one of the ground floor windows and as they neared the building, the others gathered where she stood for a report of what little she could see through the grimy panes.

Alan watched crossly as the group came together on the other side of the parking lot. He was as good a man as the lot of them. He ached for an opportunity to prove himself to Giles, and strangely, even more so to Buffy. With Willow about half way to the building, he let go of the fencing he'd been holding open. He was surprised at how much pressure he had obviously needed to apply to pull back the metal for the others to pass through for, when he released his grip, noisy vibrations rippled violently along the fence line loudly enough to make him jump nervously.

He pressed a shoulder heavily on the fence, hoping to dampen the vibrations but upon hearing the noise, the others turned toward him in unison. He folded his arms in an attempt to look casual and shrugged. Time slowed as the others remained motionless, assessing the damage he'd just caused. Maybe the rear was a better place for him after all.

After a few uneasy moments during which nothing untoward happened, everyone began to breathe again. Alan saw Willow turn back to continue her journey to the building and he dropped his gaze to the ground in annoyance, kicking at it as he would kick at himself if he could. Stupid, stupid mistake. As he muttered to himself, Alan thought he saw something move to his left and jerked his head in that direction. Before he could comprehend what was happening he felt someone, something, leap at him from the shadows along the fence line. Alan had heard nothing, seen nothing, but had been stalked and now attacked. Instinctively he fell to the ground and rolled, becoming a smaller target as Rouj's muscular body sailed over him.

Canid animals make noise in attack to call others to their aid, but Rouj was beyond needing help. He was a force unto himself. His attacks were quiet and deadly. He had been on the other side of the parking lot when the first girl had come over the fence. But she had only mildly aroused his curiosity. As more people began to enter his territory, however, he grew angry. Deciding to single out members of this intruding pack one by one, he had found Alan left behind, alone, in the shadows and had watched for his opportunity. But the man had avoided his first lunge. Landing heavily on the other side of his target, Rouj's tough claws scrabbled to turn his body back toward Alan to finish the assault. The scratching sound did not carry far, but something tickled Willow's ear and she turned back in time to see the beast gathering himself to make a second leap at Alan who was rolling desperately on the ground, trying to right himself to make some kind of defense against this enemy. In the dark, Willow could only see the beast's shape and feel it's ferocity as it seemed to hold itself in check to allow Alan to make ready for battle, as though things were too easy. She was too far away from Buffy to call for help without yelling. She hesitated, wondering if she should use her magic to intervene and then it began.

Rouj fell upon Alan, all teeth and hair and claws, snarling viciously, throwing the man on his back and planting huge paws on his chest. Alan fought to escape but with the beast bearing down upon him he could hardly even draw breath. With a colossal effort, he managed to push the animal's torso away to arms' length, maneuver his legs between their bodies and kick out hard. Any other creature would have been flung yards away, but Rouj was stronger than anything Alan had ever imagined. The monster was back at him instantly. Rouj snapped at his head and Alan wriggled just in time to hear the teeth rattle shut just where his ear had been. But, in turning to avoid the teeth, Alan's shirt pulled down, presenting his jugular vein and carotid artery to his opponent as though on a silver platter.

Alan closed his eyes, aware of his vulnerable state and the obvious outcome. Rouj reared his head roaring in victory and opened his gaping mouth to take in Alan's now exposed neck when suddenly, the threat disappeared. Alan, opened his eyes to see Willow, surrounded in the soft glow of power, her hand outstretched before her, aimed at a point somewhere in his direction, but above him. Turning his eyes skyward, Alan saw the subject of her spell, the marauding animal that had been his mortal enemy only moments before, was suspended over him by ten feet, it's legs flailing uselessly in the night sky. Alan rapidly scuttled out from under the animal and stood for a moment, overwhelmed at the sheer size of it.

"I can't hold him there forever," Willow whispered hoarsely from two rows of parking lines away. "Get out of here."

With one last look at his nemesis, and knowing now what had protected the fence, Alan abandoned his rear guard and sprinted toward the building, "Thanks, Red. I owe ya," he called out softly then he turned toward Buffy and the others who were still unaware of what had just happened, deep in conference below the building's window.

Willow was beginning to shake with the effort of holding the animal in mid air. It was large, strong and very, very angry. But this was just a dumb animal, unable to account for its actions. She couldn't harm it. Tightening her grip only slightly, she stood, wondering what to do with it. She couldn't just put it down outside the fence, it was too dangerous, although it seemed to have stopped struggling against her. She took a step closer, still wary of its strength and size. "Well, fella, now what?" she murmured and the animal turned its piercing gaze toward her, intent on listening to her words. "Too bad that the cage at the high school is gone, or even the one at UCS…those bars would've held…."

With a stifled scream, Willow drew back her hand. The shimmer of her power dissipated like stardust around her and Rouj fell from where she had held him, landing hard, but feet first on the ground. They stood now meeting each other's stare as their minds raced.

Rouj took in impressions of the woman before him. Independent, diminutive, shy but strong, like many he had hunted lately, but…different. This one was…familiar. He sniffed. A comforting scent of sage and peppermint filled his senses with that which he wanted least, yet wanted most, memory. He shook his massive head and growled in irritation.

"Oz?" Willow whispered. "Is that you?"

Willow began to panic. She had always been frightened of Oz's wolf, but there had been precautions; cages, darts, locks and chains. She realized, as she stared into the eyes of the animal before her, that the man she had loved was tightly locked away within there somewhere, but that the beast was master, for now. She trembled, "Oz?" she offered again.

The werewolf hesitated, confused, uncertain. He was also feeling something unpleasant, a tug at his…humanity? The life he had known, the one he had chosen, the one he chose to remember, was one of hate and killing, blood and power. Whatever, or whoever this girl was, was challenging all he knew, all he wanted to know. He began to grow more and more agitated, growling menacingly.

Giles had been drawn out of the group and to the scene looking for Willow. As he looked on, he stepped soundlessly in her direction and reaching her side, he spoke softly, "Willow? Are you all right? My God, is that…?"

The familiar, English-accented voice floated softly, reaching her, centering her. She knew what she had to do. With one fluid gesture, she filled the beast before her with sleep. When the werewolf fell to its stomach at her feet, she knelt down and laid her hands gently on its head. Stroking it lovingly for a moment, the young woman then leaned forward and whispered, "I'll be back for you," into the wolf's ear. Without moving she answered, "I'm fine Giles, and yes, it's him,"

Rising to her feet, she looked at Giles who was astonished by the circumstances, but still purposeful. "You didn't tire yourself did you? We need you, Willow," the Watcher reminded her and himself delicately, but urgently, of their current situation.

"I feel fine Giles. Let's go."

Without a second glance, they left the sleeping monster and went to rescue Dawn. Again.

#####

Buffy rubbed the pane of the dirty window with her elbow. She leaned in closer and watched as Magus strode to the center of the room, and ascended an elevated dais of rich, dark mahogany. He was dressed in some sort of regal uniform, the chest of which was emblazoned with illegible but frightening symbols of his position, meant to inspire fear in both his enemies and his subjects. A floor-length cape of what looked like black velvet was draped over his shoulders and the edges of this were fringed with locks of human hair, the variety of colors there making a constantly unique pattern. Buffy began to tremble. What did she think she was doing? Her against this huge ape-god? She wasn't who she had been, even two days ago. Running in there would be suicidal.

But then she followed Magus' glance back toward the platform steps and saw there a little man striding confidently up the treads with Dawn in his grasp. He was dressed ceremoniously, but in human attire, a deep blue suit with coordinating tie and kerchief. His movements were precise and his demeanor respectful but confident. Buffy did not recognize him immediately, but as the images began to merge with her memories of Glory, she finally put it together. And she was ticked. It may not have been Glory down there, but the enemy was the same. "And nobody hurts me or mine twice," she muttered.

Recon had never been Buffy's strong suit, she preferred the "go in and kill them" method, but without power on their side, planning was essential, so this time she looked over the situation carefully. Encircling the platform were several rows of worshipers, with the berobed minions kneeling on the platform itself, facing toward the crowd. At each door, and under each window stood an armed and armored, well, behemoth would be a good word. Each of these knights held a short battleaxe or mace at the ready and had a broad sword strapped to their hip. Fortunately their attention was all turned toward the ceremony and none appeared to have been made suspicious by the noises outside, yet.

As Alan and Willow rejoined the group, Buffy returned with a description of what she had seen through the dirty window. "He was there before too," she finished to no one in particular.

"Hmm?" Giles answered distractedly.

"That man. He was the one up on the tower with Dawn the last time."

Willow had overheard. "I do remember that. He must have been the one who threw Sp…," but she started again. "Are you sure that's him?"

"Absolutely," Buffy confirmed. "But as I recall, he's not a warrior. He's creepier."

Giles, who had long ago learned to trust Buffy's intuition, turned to Willow and asked, "Is that him, then?"

"Maybe. Yes."

Sensing a hidden meaning, all eyes turned to Willow, but as everyone continued to wait expectantly, she only offered, "I could cause a distraction. Turn out the lights, make sparks, draw their attention away from the doors?"

Gunn shook his head. "They're obviously expecting something like that. A typical plan of attack won't work."

Ever the one to favor guerrilla warfare Faith suggested, "Well, how about the skylight?" She motioned to the large glass window above the crowd.

"Too high. No Super-Slayer landing gear, remember?" Xander prompted them. "But I might have an idea. "How's about we make our own way in with some of this?" Reaching into Buffy's bag he still carried, he pulled out eight round, red sticks of dynamite. The only thing missing was the 'ACME' stamp on the side. "Good, old-fashioned explosives. Union perks for the glorified carpenter," he responded.

Xander traded a look with Buffy that told her he remembered who had coined the phrase about him and in that one glance she knew that Xander wished that Spike was there too.

Faith reached past the others and grabbed the volatile materials out of Xander's grasp. She held out her other hand. "Caps?"

"Radio controlled detonator," the construction manager handed over the equipment.

"One on each wall and two at the doors, as a surprise for the big guys. Back in a flash." The young brunette was off at a run but a strong arm stopped her.

"Faith," Robin called out to stop her.

As she turned to argue, she felt a strong hand on her arm. "No. Not this time Faith. This is my job." Acceding to the fact that he was probably now faster than she, Faith handed over the supplies to Angel. Nodding he continued, "I'll set these then take up a position at that skylight. When the bombs go off, we go in."

"I'm going with you," Buffy demanded.

"No you're not," the rest said in unison.

"She's my sister. If anyone gets to be in the middle of this, it's me. I'm going."

After a moment's consideration, Angel conceded, "But only to rescue Dawn. Your mission is to get Dawn out. Nothing else."

Rummaging around in the bag again, Xander pulled out a length of rope with what looked like a small anchor attached to one end. "This ought to get you in and out of there." He offered the grappling hook to Buffy.

The others prepared their weapons and based on the intended location of the dynamite charges, they quickly determined stations and took up positions around the building. Andrew, though, was the only one who saw the worry darken Alan's features as he watched Buffy loop the rope over her shoulder and scale the side of the building.

"It is different from the inside, isn't it?" Andrew asked.

Before he could answer, they heard Gunn called softly, "Alan? Andrew? Move out." And they did.

When Buffy reached the skylight she looked down to find herself directly over the platform she'd seen from the other window, only about 30 feet higher. Frantically she searched for Dawn and found that she had now been positioned to one side of Magus.

When she saw her sister, Buffy realized that Dawn was dressed similarly to the last time in an elaborate velvet gown without shoes. Her hands were bound behind her to a post, and her mouth was gagged. Buffy noted that Magus was standing dead center on the stage, arms outstretched and basking in the crowd's adoration. Doc stood mildly at the god's other side, smiling. With horror, Buffy realized that about ten feet behind the trio, where she hadn't seen her before, another young girl was chained from the ceiling. Her hands and feet were manacled so that she hung face down, her body about four feet off the floor over where a large wooden bowl had been placed. This was obviously the girl that Fred and Gunn had seen captured. Visibly tired, the girl struggled hopelessly and was watched only spuriously by the two underlings that flanked her. Looking over the scene, Buffy counted about twenty of the robed minions bowing outwardly toward the rest of the gathering.

She was so absorbed in the scene below that she jumped when Angel slid into place next to her. "Five minutes," he whispered.

As they watched, Magus raised his hands signaling for silence and the prayerful chanting came to a halt. The robed minions stood and turned, all eyes on their god. "Fellow Dizenians and Dizenian wannabes, tonight, for the second time in as many years, we open the gates that have kept us prisoner here in this world. Last time the portal was sealed prematurely before my dear sister, Glorificus, could reassume her birthright, but tonight the ancient lineage of Krion will prevail as we throw open those doors permanently!" The throng before him roared in adulation and Magus continued, "The universes will meld and the beings that inhabit Dizen will be let loose to wreak our vengeance upon this world without mercy, just as we will destroy those who hold my throne. We will march upon the magnificent castle of my ancestors and the scepter of Kree will live in my hand once more! Victory will be ours!" The onlookers were screaming wildly now as Magus finished grandly, "Let the ritual begin!" The crowd cheered, brandishing steel tipped weapons of all sorts, stamping their feet and pushing forward toward the stage.

Magus gestured toward Doc who stepped forward. The older man reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of what appeared to be red sand. Slowly he drew a three-foot circle on the floor. The crowd, recognizing the start of a spell began to murmur among themselves, speculating on its purpose.

When he had completed forming his ring of power, Doc reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar gold circlet. Raising it up before the crowd, he stood completely still, commanding silence by his presence. Slowly the crowd obeyed. "Naillig's Crown," he began, "was a gift bestowed upon the people of this earth by a benevolent, mystical being nearly 6,000 years ago. At first it was virtually insignificant, used only to heal, but that same entity, being moved by a mad compassion for these people, later imbued the Crown with a part of its very self, a part which, when activated by a champion, can control the passages and portals between all people, between all beings, between all dimensions."

Doc was in his element, teaching, storytelling; his voice grew stronger. "Centuries ago, Earthlings at peace laid aside the true purpose of the Crown; the elements were divided, the crown buried and the energy it had contained was re-purposed to their own intent. The ancient passageways were hidden and forgotten. Now, however, it seems that those ancient memories have been rekindled. Even now, there are humans studying the relic's history and ancient stories of its significance. It is only a matter of time before they rediscover the Crown's true meaning and seek to imprison us in this realm with its power forever." The crowd hissed and booed those who would rule them. "If we allow this to happen, this world's insignificant race will have all of us by the throat. Today, though, we defeat them before they begin. We will destroy the Crown and the Key and all worlds will be one, all doors will be open. All pathways open to all creatures. Always."

The crowd hung on his every word as Doc moved forward into the circle. "The Crown is that which you see before you." He let go of the crown and it floated smoothly, exactly where he had released it. He indicated Dawn with a smile. "The energy, you cannot see is held within this vessel. But not for long. Soon, after 5,000 years, the Crown of Naillig will be whole again, and will rest on the head of our god, Magistericos!" The crowd cheered lustily in anticipation of their victory.

With a majestic sweep of his hand Doc reached out toward Dawn for only a moment, but it was a moment that lasted forever. Then Doc raised a finger; nothing more. He said no incantation, spoke no mystical words, called upon no other spirit, just raised his finger and single green spark emerged from Dawn's chest. She was fascinated, horrified even, but apparently unharmed and all onlookers were in awe as more and more green-tinged sparks followed the first towards Doc's raised digit. As the sparks neared him, Doc directed them, spinning his finger slowly to create a glowing green ball of sparkling light that shimmered and crackled in the air near his head.

Angel firmly held Buffy back as the process began. They had known this was coming but Willow had been sure that it wouldn't un-create Dawn, that she was not animated by the energy because the Crown provided animation before the energy existed. It was within her, but not of her. Buffy whimpered as she saw Dawn's body arch and slump as the energy was drawn from her. "It's not working. He's killing her." She struggled against Angel, suddenly and desperately realizing how much she missed her super strength.

"No, he's not. Look," Angel whispered urgently into her ear. They both looked down to see Dawn shaking her head as though she were dazed. "She's okay." He drew his arms back from Buffy as she began to relax. The separation of the key was his cue.

"Dawnie," Buffy muttered. "Daw…." Her words were cut short by the huge explosions that Angel had just detonated on every side of the building below her. The roof shook and, had they not been lying on their stomachs to look through the skylight, they would have both been thrown off their feet.

#####

As soon as the walls blew, chaos broke out everywhere. Most of the regular congregation simply dropped their weapons and scattered. Others that made a couple of turns in the melee, looking for targets and finding none, fled as well. The minions, though, formed a ring around the stage and facing out, assumed a vantage point from which they could defend their god. Xander, Robin and Gunn were on them in seconds. Swords, knives and axes are fine, but not when you're up against AK74s. Shots rang out and soon even the most stouthearted were seeking cover.

Alan, Kennedy and several others entered through the gaping holes in the building, following the guns. They and the SITs that followed wielded the more traditional weapons; crossbows, axes, swords and knives. Although outnumbered, their weapons and experience quickly gave the good guys the upper hand. The less loyal participants quickly saw where their fortunes lay and threw down their weapons in surrender. Robin and Kennedy secured the prisoners.

Alan's group began their assault on the core of evil on the platform. The scabby minions in their brown robes were forming a tight circle around Dawn, Magus, Doc and the sacrifice.

On the roof, Buffy and Angel saw how the battle was progressing. Angel knew instinctively that the central circle of minions would be the most difficult for the warriors to penetrate. "I'm going in," he said simply and then he poised himself, at the rim of the skylight, aimed and jumped.

Buffy watched him disappear into the dust-filled space below. And she saw one more thing. The knights that had held back until now, still positioned near what remained of the building walls, were beginning to move in toward the center of the melee, surrounding and surprising her friends. She called out, but the din drowned her voice. In desperation to warn them, she forgot her shortcomings and Xander's saving rope and followed Angel's free fall.

Magus fought to comprehend what had happened. "What? How? Who?" he stuttered, enraged. "Where was Rouj? Why weren't the other's watching the perimeter?" He struggled to sort the priorities of the moment, to do some crisis management. "Doc, the ritual?"

The slim, older man remained the calm. He was in charge of this particular hurricane. "I am proceeding with all due speed, Magus. Please be patient." Somewhere in his brain, the huge god noted that Doc had not called him by his full name for the first time, ever. Magus stood uncertainly at a distance and watched as Doc juggled Dawn's energy and Naillig's Crown in space. Looking around him, he judged that the time would be sufficient. "All is going according to plan."

The god's momentary distraction with Doc was the advantage that Angel had seen from the roof, and now he landed next to Magus upon the stage. The minions were all concentrating upon the battle outside the circle, Doc stood working magic within his circle, so Angel had Magus to himself. The vampire steadied himself and watched with amusement as the god removed his abhorrent cloak with a flourish and threw it to the side. The two powerful men faced off. Feinting to his left, Angel landed the first blow, a quick, right that sent Magus sailing off his feet and across the stage. With no wolf to worry about, Angel felt confident and he threw that first punch. But he was wrong.

Buffy landed exactly where she had planned, on the platform about 15 feet from where Angel had come down, but outside the ring of minions. Her training had taught her to flex her knees and roll as she landed, but a 30' drop for a mere mortal was something new. She gasped as her left ankle twisted under her with a sharp crack. She carried only a short sword which, remained, fortunately, within it's scabbard now, for not having drawn her weapon, and tottering uncertainly in place, this girl appeared to no one as an immediate threat and she was left alone.

Waves of pain washed through her and she struggled to remain upright and out of the path of sweeping blades in the other's battles. For a moment she felt small and weak and very frightened. What the hell did she think she was doing? Then, Faith was there at her side, her own axe dripping with the fight. Despite the battle, Faith had seen her land and was worried, asking urgently, "B? You okay?"

Buffy nodded but hopped in place twice before finding her balance. "Not goin' anywhere in a hurry though," she answered.

Without another thought Buffy grabbed for her sword, freeing it from its sheath and bringing it down forcefully toward Faith's right shoulder. Years of tutelage under an excellent Watcher, had obviously trained not only a Slayer, but a Buffy as well. Her blade landed true, quickly severing the head of the berobed, well-armed figure behind Faith. With a quick smile of gratitude, Faith turned and the two ex-Slayers stood back to back, taking on all comers. In the process of dispatching another of Magus' loyal followers a flash of light caught Buffy's eye; the knights.

She scanned the room. Alan and Kennedy were fighting off four minions coming at them with spear and axe, Fred and Andrew had begun to herd the prisoners, which they had surrounded, into one corner of the room and were searching them for hidden weapons. One of the girls was making headway in her sword fight with a much smaller, but much stronger foe, unaware of the knight who had raised his mace over her head. "Xander, Robin, Gunn!" she shouted. The men with machine guns turned in her direction. "Behind you!"

The men turned to see the mace's evil weight descend on Rona. She was dead before she hit the floor and a full dozen knights were closing in on them all. Bullets now began to fly in the opposite direction, away from the platform, but predictably the shells bounced off the armor. The knights continued their slow-paced advance on their otherwise preoccupied friends.

Alan dodged a blade and stepped in to impale his enemy with his own sword. He had been successful in battle, but he had seen Buffy fall. Fear for her life had sustained him. As he reassessed his immediate danger he saw Buffy. Despite everything, she fought like a hellion and he felt…proud. Lost in this thought Alan never saw the knight as it raised its axe to cleave the young, blonde Englishman in two. Across the room, Buffy saw and her opened her lips to scream, but Alan never heard her.

Magus got up and laughed. "Lucky punch, vampire," he brushed himself off and came at Angel with renewed vigor. The god moved toward Angel with more strength than Angel had seen in centuries, strength but no finesse. The vampire planted his feet and reminded himself that since he no longer had surprise on his side, quickness, agility and speed were going to win him this fight.

The next sound Alan heard was the twisting metal and the cry of unfulfilled evil all rolled into one. He turned to look, but before he could comprehend it, a knight fell to the ground, behind him, armor clattering and separating as the knight disintegrated to dust before his eyes.

Standing behind the fallen armor was Giles. In his hand he held the Slayer's Scythe and on his face was a determination that Alan could not imagine existed within his bookish mentor's repertoire. Smoothly, Giles turned toward the next knight and with little effort, dealt death again.

Alan and the others took up his sword and moved into the battle once more buoyed by Giles' success.

Once the two ex-Slayers dispatched the band of minions that had confronted them, Faith, knowing where Buffy's heart was, leapt up onto the stage and turned back. She offered her arm to assist the limping Buffy onto the platform and Buffy took it.

On the dais, Faith and Buffy killed two more of Magus' followers before Faith felt comfortable leaving Buffy's side. But when Faith felt she could, she rushed to assist Angel in his battle with Magus.

Buffy looked around to get her bearings then hobbled as quickly as she could to her sister. Tossing the sword she carried, Buffy threw her arms around Dawn. She held on tightly for a few precious seconds. She began removing the ropes that held the younger girl's hands and arms, examining her frantically for injuries. "I'm okay, Buffy," Dawn said with as much conviction as she could muster. "Really. They have what they want from me. Go help Angel." Looking Dawn over one more time to reassure herself, Buffy nodded, grabbed the blade again and pushed herself up off the floor, heading in the direction of the titanic battle raging between Angel and Magus.

Buffy arrived at the front lines at the same time as Faith where they were both immediately struck down by Angel's airborne body being repelled by a very large man on the other end of a very large fist. The three of them, vampire and two ex-Slayers, tumbled into a chaotic tangle of limbs.

"Buffy, Faith, take Dawn and get out of here!" Angel yelled as they struggled to regain the offensive.

"Sorry, old habits. We'll…." But before anyone could utter another word some of the brown-clad followers, recognizing the trio's temporary helplessness, seized the advantage and set upon them ferociously.

Seeing Magus still standing, Doc, whose hands were occupied, ordered, "Slayer. Blood. Now," in carefully measured tones. Recognizing that this would be his only chance to regain his family's throne, his destiny, Magus stepped quickly to where the innocent girl was still chained from the ceiling.

Magus pulled a knife from his belt and began to make shallow, but vivid cuts into the exposed skin of the chained victim. As the wounds began to drip into the bowl below, Magus stepped back to watch the entranceway to his world start to materialize.

Dawn rubbed her wrists and shook her hands to bring feeling back to her fingers. She was sitting on her heels within the center of the melee, relatively unscathed. Looking around, she wondered helplessly what to do next. Unexpectedly, she felt strong hands tugging her urgently to her feet. "There y'are li'l bit. Le's get you outta here."

There was nothing she wanted more, but Dawn stopped, "No. I'm not leaving."

"This's no place for you. C'mon."

"I don't expect you to know this yet, but when a Summers girl says 'No', she means it." Dawn drew herself up to full height and meant it.

"Okay, okay. Jus' stay low then, for cryin'…." Just then, his words were drowned out by the screaming of the young girl in chains.

Obediently Willow crouched on the ground outside the building, listening to the thunder of the battle within, to the sounds of retreating footsteps and now to the screams. Giles had said for her to wait for ten minutes, but the waiting was torture. Her every instinct called her to action, but Giles had been very clear about her role tonight. She was to wait. Trying to concentrate on something else, her mind fell to thinking about the wolf she'd left sleeping in the parking lot nearby.

It had been Oz. She was as sure of that as anything. She had seen him in his other form for three days a month for nearly two years. Sitting outside the bars of his imprisonment on those nights, she had memorized him. He had meant more to her than anything, had been her first love, her first lover. Then, when his wolf grew stronger, he feared for her safety. So, with no promise to return, he'd left her alone and set out on his quest. Willow thought back to how his abandonment had hurt her, but she felt no anger. As it turned out, Oz had returned. In fact, accomplished the impossible. He had overcome his demon self and become a man with which she could share a life without fear. And he returned triumphantly to her. It was the stuff of fairy tales.

But his timing had been bad. When he came back, she was already in love again, with Tara. As much as Oz had been her heart's treasure, Tara had been her soul mate. The two women had so much in common and Tara had provided Willow with a strength that she couldn't have imagined earlier, helping her explore all she could be in both human and magic worlds. Tara's death had driven Willow mad for a time, her loss was so excruciating.

With her friends' help, Willow had regained herself, and then there had been Kennedy. Kennedy had been different. Their relationship had been different. Looking back at it, Willow knew that they had never fallen in love. But they had been close, friends even. But Willow's heart had always ached for the past. What was it Kennedy had said? That Willow was a romantic, that she needed a "happily ever after"?

Looking at her watch, Willow had two minutes yet to wait. She shook her head and tried to clear her mind for the mission. Hoping that the sleeping spell she had put on Oz would hold, and that in doing it she hadn't worn herself out so much that she would be unable to help the team, her last thought was that it was about time for a fairy tale ending.

As Buffy, Faith and Angel struggled to fight off the minions and get to their feet, the screams provided further incentive. Buffy was deathly afraid that it was Dawn she was hearing, but in her struggle, she managed a glimpse in her sister's direction and see her standing with Alan's arm protectively around her. Although her posture suggested she was safe, her face read an entirely different emotion. Following Dawn's horrified gaze, Buffy found the source of the screams, it was the other girl. "Oh, my God," she breathed, pointing out what was happening to the others at the same time. With renewed effort the three of them put away the last minion.

"You're too late!" Magus laughed, stepping back to admire his handiwork and welcome the doorway to his kingdom. All eyes turned in his direction.

"No!," Buffy cried. Steeling a glance at Dawn, almost silently Buffy added, "Angel, he doesn't know! It's the wrong blood."

Alan and Dawn joined them, and the five of them watched the first drop of blood fall from the belly of the screaming girl into the bowl below her.

Nothing happened.

No portal opened.

No sparks flashed.

Nothing.

Never had Magus felt bewildered, but now his world was spinning wildly around him. His mind whirled through a checklist. They'd collected all the trimmings and seen to all the details, had formed the core of his army that would swell in numbers when his loyal allies from the other world welcomed him home. Ritual, ceremony, crown, key, blood; all were in place. What had gone wrong?

In puzzling it out, Magus didn't hear Giles as he called to Buffy. When she looked toward him, the older man tossed her the scythe. Catching it expertly she adjusted her balance and stepped toward the god.

Just before death descended upon him, Magus put the pieces together. Everything that had been set in place had been dictated, fashioned, designed and put into action by one man. As the blade of the Slayer's scythe fell, the god screamed the name of his betrayer, "Doc!"

Doc turned toward Magus' roar in time to see him fall below the others' power. He smiled. He loved chess. Turning back toward where the Crown hung in mid air before him, Doc closed his eyes. "Now she will come." With all that was happening around him, now was not the time to be distracted. Concentrating on his words, the wizened old man began to chant.

Sporadic gunshots continued to ring out; cries of pain echoed throughout the huge room; broken glass crunched under heavy shoes and into falling bodies. Small battles still raged, but most of the worshippers and minions had already either died or fled. Alan found where the chains had been secured, and gently lowered the injured and still weeping girl into Xander and Gunn's waiting arms.

Things seemed to be on hold as Doc continued his spell, like everyone was waiting for something to happen. That was when Willow stepped into the building.

The witch had been obedient to Giles' wishes, holding back outside until the way was clear for her to reach the platform. Now she joined him and together they walked up the stairs. Jinx, the minion leader, stood in their way.

The ex-Watcher stepped up confidently and pulled a large switchblade from his pocket. Snapping it open it became a comfortable extension of his hand as he demanded, "Let us through."

The unkempt little man laughed nervously and foolishly brandished a sword in Giles' direction. Instantly, the minion's blade was flung from his hand and the tip of Giles' knife was at the scabby little man's throat. "Let us through," Giles repeated, lower and with more authority.

Two other be-robed servants edged toward the stage, but Faith called out and with skills undiminished by the loss of power, the ex-Slayer stopped them. "I wouldn't, if I were you," she threatened, and the two little men took a step back.

The room grew deadly silent as the participants in the other battles fell quiet to witness this final confrontation.

His gaze never having left the first minion, a sinister smile spread across Giles features as he asked, "Are you really going to make me say it again?"

With only the slightest hesitation, the frightened little man fell to his knees and covered his eyes, "No, merciful and forgiving one. No. Please proceed regally as your Most Significant Self…." Giles pushed aside the groveller with his foot, then he, too, stepped aside to allow Willow passage to center stage.

Willow stepped up to the red circle on the floor, the toes of her shoes and it's dust separated by just a breath. She looked from it to Doc, to the levitated crown and glowing key. And waited.

Doc didn't acknowledge her presence. He continued to chant words that no one could recognize. As Willow watched, a small thin line began to separate itself from the green energy ball and wend its way slowly through the air toward the crown.

Willow just watched as the crown began to absorb the energy that had rightfully been its all along. The small circlet, delicate, but dull and uninteresting before, seemed to grow, not in size, but in substance. It seemed to shimmer from within, its very essence commanding attention and wonder.

The young witch fought the almost irresistible urge to fall down and worship before the Crown, forgetting her plan completely. Then she took a deep breath and focused on her mission. Willow waited until all of the energy had been transferred into the crown and timed her attack.

Raising her arms to the heavens and throwing back her head, she called out, "Seth, Egyptian god of capture, of power and revenge, hear my prayer."

"And so, it is down to us at last," Doc mused, unshaken. "As it should be. Power against power. Will against will." Unheeding, Willow continued her incantation. "But you are too late, witch. I have but one last invocation to make, and the door will open. Magus' Dizenian army will bow to my Crown and destroy you all."

Soon the incantations of both sorcerer and witch were vying for volume;

"Imprison my enemy, bind him with the bonds of his own evil purpose. Assist in his capture, enable his fall, and share in the satisfaction of his defeat.

Stay his hand.

Hold his spirit.

Deny his will."

"Open the doors to many worlds and furnish me authority over all evils in all dimensions. This power is my destiny, and with it I will triumph over my enemies. I bear the ancient Crown of Naillig. I hold the key to all worlds, to all possibilities, to all dimensions."

Between the two warring parties, a force grew. Whether it was good against evil, or just the meeting of their two wills, no one was sure, but the energy of the combat flashed throughout the room. The bodies of both opponents shook as the power they channeled surged through them.

Willow began to tire. Somewhere within her human self, was a little voice crying out for her to stop. The energy was doing damage; it was too much strain for her small body. Sheer willpower kept her going even as her body began to give up on her, shaking uncontrollably, her words slurring, blood beginning to ooze from her eyes nose and mouth, she fell to the floor.

Instantly, the energy with which she had contained Doc inside his enchanted circle broke free, showering everyone on the platform with sparks of spent power. Doc stopped chanting, a look of triumph on his face. He lifted the Crown again, broke from his circle and stepped to Willow's side. Looking down on her he shook his head. "Foolish girl. You could have been so much more," he muttered. He turned to the others who stood rooted to the spot, staring at the spectacle. "There," he began, "lies your champion. And, here, as you can see, I still stand."

The others still could not move, unsure of his intent or what might happen next, now that Willow was no longer protecting them. Doc spun slowly, taking in the scene majestically around him, as if time were his. Magus' body lay near his severed head on the platform, Buffy and Alan and stood nearby. The innocent girl huddled on the floor, Faith and Angel administering first aid as best they could. All eyes were on him.

With a small smirk, Doc turned back in Angel's direction. He looked down upon the fallen god who lay on the floor beside the vampire, "Poor, foolish Magus. Don't get me wrong, Magistericos, served his purpose. Gathering and slaughtering, he drew the attention on himself. He was the perfect pawn."

"And thank you, Angel, it is Angel isn't it?" Angel nodded dumbly. "Yes, I thought so. Thank you for playing your part so well too. Finding the crown and releasing it from the safe at Wolfram and Hart to use its power and save your lady fair was a nice touch. I couldn't have planned it better myself. How romantic, and then how easy for us to steal. And, of course, I certainly could not have defeated Magus quite so readily as you and your assistants. I am, as you can see, not strong in a physical sense.

"And I owe you a debt as well, Slayer."

Buffy was appalled. "I've done nothing for you."

"Oh, but you have, indeed!," he argued. "You obviously decided to have the Slayer spell reversed a couple of nights ago. Although it was of no consequence to my own plans, it served to confuse and therefore defeat Magistericos. And, of course, in the end, you even provided me with a worthy adversary." He indicated Willow who still lay on the floor.

Without missing a beat he continued, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ripper." Doc turned to where Giles had begun to cross the platform, hopefully undetected. "Or you, boy." Xander was thrown to the floor, having been hit in the shoulder by a powerful bolt of magical energy from Doc's hand. as he attempted to mount the stage opposite of where Doc's attention had been drawn. "I think we have quite enough players right now to finish."

Buffy found her voice, "Finish? How?"

"Ah, Ms. Summers. How fitting for you to ask, as it was actually you who gave me the idea in the first place. Don't you remember? The last time we met was in a very similar situation. I had just thrown this young man…. That's who you remind me of! Are you…? No, you're not."

"Distant relations," Alan offered, trying to redirect Doc back to his story in hopes that he would eventually reveal his plans and purpose.

"Huh," Doc clucked deep within his throat. "Striking likeness."

"So I've been told."

"Too bad. I had begun to find him…useful in certain business dealings. Ah, well, no matter. As I was saying, Miss Summers, when we last met, a portal had just opened and then you found a way to close it. At the time, I had only wanted the portal opened. I thought that having a passage between the two worlds would create havoc here and that was my only goal. However, in retrospect, later, I realized that controlling the opening and closing of such a doorway would be…more desirable."

From his spot on the floor, Giles interjected, "Commerce."

"Exactly. If I control the passageway, I control the tariffs, the taxes, duties, customs, graft, greed…all are at my disposal and all meant to profit me."

"So all you wanted was the Crown all along?" Buffy challenged. "Not, 'all pathways open to all creatures'?"

The small demon laughed, amusement reflected in his evil eyes, "No, my dear. That was but a tale for the masses. There is no profit in giving away that which you can sell."

"So you're the troll, then?" Dawn asked. "Exacting payment for people to cross the bridge?"

"Ah, yes Dawn. Back to our analogy." Doc thought about it. "Yes, the troll. Very good. Still, I prefer my ending where the troll outwits the Big Billy Goat Gruff." Pointedly, he turned back to the others, lifted the Crown and settled it on his own head. "The energy source had to be restored to the Crown to make it whole and usable for my purposes. And, as you see, you have provided that to me as well. You have all been most help…ful…."

Suddenly Doc fumbled for words. "What?" The Crown on his head began to glow more brightly, its color changing from green to yellow to red, back and forth through the spectrum, and a thrumming sound began. At first the sound was low, but then the light began to pulsate, both the light and the sound grow stronger and stronger with each occurrence. Doc raised his hands to his head and attempted to take off the circlet, but it would not be removed.

Soon the light emitting from the Crown grew blinding and the sound so deafening that everyone else turned away, eyes tightly closed, hands over their ears. With each beat the pain intensified. They sank to their knees, covering their heads. The floor shook and what little glass still remained within the windows shattered from the sound. Then, when it seemed the next sound would be unbearable, it was over.

One by one the gang members opened their eyes and uncovered their ears, testing their safety. It was silent now and, as they raised their heads and looked around, they found that the earlier light show had been replaced by a steady, eerie glow of the softest hues of green; Dawn's green.

As they blinked away the blindness they saw an unearthly figure kneeling over Willow. It was without true form, but each of them would later recall a different feature, something that had made them happy to look upon. Xander remembered a gentle, warm smile very much like Anya's, Dawn, that it had her mother's wise and loving eyes. Giles saw in the figure the stubborn, characteristic turn of Jenny's head; Robin recalled within it his mother's strength and Alan felt unwavering forgiveness. Buffy remembered angels, or the feeling of angels in her heaven. Still none of them could be sure, not at first and not even later, of the appearance of the Entity.

It was, or seemed to be, nearly 10' tall and robed, they thought, in robes constructed of millions of points of light, each one shimmering as it moved, and moving not so much with the figure, but around it, as if each point of light was repositioning itself moment to moment as the body they enveloped, moved. They were entranced, not by a spell, but by the poetry of motion and light before them and they watched as the being wrapped its healing cloak of light around Willow.

Moments, or hours later, for time had lost meaning, the figure withdrew and hovered above them. Willow sat up, smiling, calm, healed. Only then did Buffy notice the fine white ash that now covered the floor, as though someone had dropped a paper bag full of flour from far above. Glowing at the center of the pattern, lay Naillig's Crown. It hung, still suspended in mid-air, at approximately the height of Doc's head. Buffy realized that the ash she had noticed was all that was left of him. From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement.

"Faith! No!" Buffy cried as she saw the younger woman stepping trancelike toward the Crown. Buffy tensed, ready to tackle Faith before she touched the dangerous Crown.

"Wait!" Giles interrupted. He stepped up onto the platform and repeated softly, "Wait. '_In__ use it lays upon the head of the __chosen'_he quoted. "Buffy, Faith may no longer be a Slayer, but I believe she has still been chosen."

Robin jumped up onto the platform and started haltingly toward the woman he had discovered he loved. But from his new vantage point he had a clear view of the joy on Faith's face, and he stopped, knowing even more than any of them, that this moment was the fulfillment of something sacred.

They all watched silently as Faith stepped forward, her eyes unwavering, her resolve complete. She reached out with both hands and reverently grasped Naillig's Crown. At her touch, the Crown's light flashed brilliantly once more and then subsided into a quiet intensity. Faith held the Crown between her two hands and walked confidently toward the robed figure, which now hovered nearby. Kneeling, she waited. Slowly the spirit took the Crown from Faith's hands and raised it above the young woman's bowed head. The being seemed to hesitate, and then with a nod, it lowered the circlet into position. As the Crown settled onto the Chosen One, the spirit's light shattered into its separate points, showering Faith in brilliance and was gone.

The first to find his voice, Xander whispered in awe, "What was that?"

"That," Giles explained, "Was a coronation." Giles stepped up and took Faith's elbow, helping her to her feet. With wonder and respect in his voice, Giles addressed the ex-Slayer, "_Its power is bequeathed to that one in every generation who seeks only to serve the __People's__ peace__."_

#####

After everyone helped secure the prisoners, the gang assessed their losses. They mourned the loss of Rona who, despite her cynicism had proven herself over time. A detail of prisoners was sent to bury the lost girl near the site of her final battle.

Buffy, whose ankle was now throbbing and hung at a disturbing angle sat on the platform, unable to move. Alan ignored his own damage to lift her into his arms. Together they went with Xander and Andrew who were taking the imprisoned girl to the hospital for treatment of her cuts and wounds.

Gunn, Fred, Shannon and Caridad volunteered to watch the captives until the police arrived. At the very least, trespassing charges would be pressed.

Robin approached Faith tentatively. What does one say to a newly crowned champion after all? He looked into her eyes, which were filled with peace. He could tell that she'd found her destiny. He began to kneel before her, but she stopped him. "If it's not ours, it's not really mine, Robin." Faith reached out and took his hand until he stood before her. "Will you stay? To keep my head on straight?" Robin hesitated. "All this power could turn a girl's head, if she doesn't have something better to look at." With a grin, Robin took Faith into his arms and kissed her.

Giles walked with Willow back to where they had left Oz sleeping. The great beast still lay on the pavement, breathing heavily. Willow knelt at its side and ran her fingers into his fur. "We'll take him back with us, Willow," the Englishman said. There's a cage in the basement of the Hyperion, used for demons and such. He can recover there."

"Will he recover? I mean, do you think he'll ever be human again?" Willow wondered sadly. "I don't know what I'd do if I've lost him again."

Giles spoke with confidence, "He conquered his wolf for you once. He will again."


	8. Chapter 8

_**DAY 8**_

Buffy was back in the Hyperion, her leg in a cast but her spirits buoyed by having her rag-tag family and friends around her and no imminent apocalypse on her shoulders. She sat in the lobby, talking intently with Faith about the future. .

Nearby, Giles sat with Dawn, discussing her status as "former key". Ultimately they decided that her life was her own, now and that returning to finish high school in the fall like any normal girl, would be her next step.

Alan, who hadn't left Buffy's side, sat with her sipping tea and making notes into a journal he'd found in the hospital's gift shop, so he could transcribe the story of yesterday's battle in his grandmother's book.

Andrew was in his glory in the next room, retelling his version of the story to those who had been unable to come; Cordelia, Wes and Lorne expected his exaggerations, yet they were horrified by the story and fascinated with the outcome.

#####

In the basement, Oz awoke on the cold concrete floor. He hurt all over. All he could do at first was blink. He struggled and managed to raise his head. With the effort, the world began to swim around him, then, holding very still, it came back into focus and he saw bars. He panicked. Caged! He'd run free for so long and now this? He tried to howl, to voice his outrage, but all that came out was a coughing kind of sputter. With immense effort he rose to his feet and with shock he realized that he stood on only two. What was this? He fell. With fear he examined his hands and feet, so longer fur-covered, now only pale skin and human bones. He picked tentatively at the too large shirt and pants he now wore.

"Oz?"

He turned toward the voice, his human throat again trying to growl, his nostrils sniffing for clues to his new surroundings and his captors.

"Do you know me, Oz? It's me. Willow."

He was confused, he was cold, he wanted to be a wolf again. That voice was too painful. He shook his head to shoo away the noise like an irritating fly. But it didn't leave.

"I brought you something to eat." A plate was pushed through a slot at the bottom of the cage. "It's one of your favorites."

His unfamiliar stomach was lurching but with a little effort he realized he was hungry. He fell upon the plate and bit into the food, forgetting he now had hands to use. As he ate, he became aware of being ravenous. He devoured every morsel on the plate and licked it clean before he became aware of another noise. It was the girl. She was sitting on the floor outside his prison, sniffling.

He moved awkwardly toward the side of his cage near her and leaned heavily on the bars. He looked at the girl through the thick, unkempt hair that had grown over his eyes. For some reason, probably because he had just eaten, he did not see her immediately as prey and as he continued to gaze at her he realized that he probably never would. Then, without warning, that terrible pang of humanity he had felt earlier returned. He threw himself angrily against the bars of his cage. Slowly the words came to him. Anger. He was angry.

He roared and the girl pulled back warily. Surprisingly he found he didn't want that either and stopped.

Her voice shaky now, but her determination strong, Willow resettled herself in her new position and began to talk, "I know this is all very confusing for you. You must have been a wolf for a very long time, ever since…because of me, of me and Tara, I mean. Can you even understand anything I'm saying?"

Oz began to pace in the cage. The voice was familiar, soothing, oddly comforting. If he had to be human, he was glad that listening to this voice came with it.

"I am sorry I hurt you. I loved you, even when I sent you away, but I couldn't leave Tara. She, she needed me. I needed her…and I…I loved her too. The timing was just…. But now…well, now, I'm…." Willow stumbled over the things she wanted to say. Inside his cage, Oz was finding himself again. The words were not just words, or orders, or cries, they had meaning, they were important. He closed his eyes and listened, tasting each syllable and finding that each was sanctified with meaning that filled him and nourished a part of him he had forgotten.

"Oz, they say that love is the most powerful magic. Maybe that's why I was able to turn you human again with the spell Giles and Wes found. I think I'll always love you because, just by being you, you give me hearts and flowers. You and everything you are, after all, are my fairy tale, my first true love."

The voice had stopped and Oz opened his eyes and looked upon the tear-stained face of the woman he loved. Although he hadn't understood all of it, the emotion in her words had touched him, made him glad he'd heard them, glad she'd said them. From somewhere deep within him, he found the need to communicate with the human. He licked his lips, surprised only for a moment by the diminutive canines and short muzzle of his face. With effort he managed to form his first word in three years, "Willow?"

#####

_**1 WEEK AFTER THE APOCALYPSE  
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Angel walked purposefully into his office only to find Cordy there, making herself useful by straightening the mess left during research for the last crisis. "I swear, boss. When will you ever learn how to file?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that." He'd been trying to have a moment to talk to Cordy for a week now, ever since the whole business with Magus had been settled. "Cor…."

Cordelia interrupted him, "We need to talk, Angel." She sat on the leather couch on the far wall of his room and patted the seat next to her in invitation. Cordy was doing her best to seem nonchalant but inside she felt like a schoolgirl. She, the _real_ she, hadn't been near Angel for a long time and yet the old feelings she had for him were still as strong.

Nodding, Angel walked over and sat down, suddenly uncomfortable. Silence. Awkward silence. Obviously Cordelia meant for him to go first. "Well, …."

"Wesley told me everything. I…I don't know what to say, Angel. Do I say I'm sorry?"

"No, Cordy. There's nothing for you to apologize for. You were used by Jasmine and didn't know what you were doing. I lost Connor, not because of you, but because he was never meant to be, or, never meant to be mine." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Listen. Let's just leave the past in the past."

Cordy thought for a while then nodded solemnly. "Is it all right if I still think it's all sad, though?"

"I do," Angel agreed. They sat in silence for a few moments before Angel cleared his throat. "Cordy?"

"Yes, Angel?"

"There is one thing that I still need to clear up with you though."

"I'll try, Angel, but I'm afraid I don't remember anything that happened over the last few months, other than an image or two here and there…"

"No. This was something…before. Something I should have told you a long time ago." Angel stood up, agitated and still unsure of the right words to say.

Cordy stood up and stood in front of him. "The best way is to just say it."

Angel looked down on the beautiful, china-doll face of the woman he had grown to love over the last few years. Time and worry had etched small lines around her eyes and mouth, but it had also produced within her an intensity, a maturity, an inner strength. "Cordelia Chase," he began. Then he started again, "Cordelia Chase…."

"Yes, well, we've established who I am already, just…." But her words were cut off by the touch of Angel's hands as he cupped her face and turned it up to his.

Angel gazed into her eyes for several moments in silence and suddenly all of his insecurity fled, overwhelmed by his intense need to share his emotion and his un-life with this woman.

"Cordelia, I love you. I've loved you for a very long time and I was a fool to not tell you when I had the chance. Wes told you about what happened to you while you were gone, but did he tell you how lost I was without you, Cordy? Everything I tried came out wrong. I couldn't be a father, a businessman, a friend. Hell, I couldn't even hold on to my soul. After Connor…left and you were in a coma…I guess I never realized how lonely I could be. There was no Cordelia to turn to, no Cordelia to keep me grounded, no Cordelia to come welcome me home. That Crown gave me a miracle. It gave me you."

#####

_**2 MONTHS AFTER THE APOCALYPSE  
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"Starbucks anyone?" Xander asked as the tempting coffee smells wafted through the long airport corridor. They had all been down this way just a week ago, seeing off the last of the SITs, sending them home to be real girls again.

"Any more coffee and I won't need a plane, I could just float to England," Buffy joked. Everyone had shared breakfast together early that morning and they now laughed good-naturedly.

"I wish they'd let us all go in. I miss the days when we could watch the planes take off," Faith mused.

Robin wrapped his arm around Faith's waist and tried to comfort her a little, "We can still watch them take off outside."

"I know, but it's not the same."

Buffy, whose leg had healed, but which she continued to favor slightly, looked at Faith warmly, "We'll call you as soon as we get settled into Giles'…is 'flat' the right word?"

"Yes, Buffy," Giles removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in mock exasperation. "Thank God you're not moving to France, I don't think I could survive teaching you a whole new language. English is hard enough."

"Well, I have to know, cuz we're all going to have to go house hunting when we get there," Buffy explained. "From Alan's description of your flat, I don't think there's room there for the five of us and you. At least not for long."

Willow reminded her of another deadline, "And we have to find a place and fix it up before the…um…"

"…the 16th," 5:24 pm," Oz squeezed her hand and finished her thought. "Chains and locks by then, or there'll be stories about me in The Guardian."

Alan shook his head in amazement. He still couldn't believe these people he'd found. Looking around the circle of friends he counted them off, a vampire, a demon, a werewolf, a witch, a demon/visionary, two ex-Watchers, a one-eyed carpenter, a Slayer's son, a genius, a warrior, a teenage girl who had held the key to the universe, and two…count 'em two…ex-Slayers, one of which was now something more.

"Wesley, I will look into the libraries for the text we discussed. We must determine the extent of Faith's new power. Meanwhile, I will need you to document her activities."

"Yes, Rupert. Much as we did when we were Watchers, eh? I'll do my best," but the younger man's gaze slipped to meet Fred's eyes and Giles began to suspect that Wes might be somewhat distracted from his duties.

"I'm counting on you," the older man added, rather loudly. Wes' attention was drawn begrudgingly back to their conversation and he nodded.

"Um…," Faith spoke up hesitantly. "Folks? I think, that the first thing you might want to look into is…succession?" and a tentative smile spread across her face as instinctively her hand fell to her stomach. Robin looked like a canary-eating cat and as everyone began to realize what Faith's words meant, they all gasped and cheered.

"Oh, honey, a bun in the oven?" Lorne asked.

Buffy pulled Faith into a tight embrace. "My God, girl. Secrets much?"

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Very. Maybe I should stay? Giles?"

The Englishman finished shaking Robin's hand before answering. "I think that things are quite well in hand here, Buffy. You can come back at any time for a visit. Say in six months or so?"

"We'll take good care of her," Cordy stepped up to Faith's side, "I promise."

"Me too," Angel added, his loving glance taking in Cordy's maternal gesture.

"We all will," Andrew seconded.

"C'mon, Buffy. You promised me fish and chips for dinner tonight," Dawn urged her sister back into the reality where they were moving to England.

"She's right, pet. I know just the place too."

Buffy smiled at herself. She was being overprotective. The others would be there to watch over Faith, and a new life, a more normal life with Dawn was calling to her. "Okay, okay. I'm going. But I get to suggest baby names."

"You've got a deal, B. Just nothing like…well, Muffy," Faith beamed.

They were all exchanging farewell hugs and kisses when the airport speakers boomed, "Now boarding, British Airways, flight 4215 for London."

"That's us," Buffy called as Alan collected their carry-on bags. Although the differences were becoming more apparent day by day, his resemblance to Spike still struck her by surprise sometimes. The memory of the last words they had shared came back to her. "That Alan's a good lookin' fella. Don't you think?" and she laughed out loud in spite herself.

Alan stood up and, as though he read her mind, answered Buffy's gaze, "Someday I'm goin' to make you sparkle like that because of who I am, not who he was." Still smiling to herself, Buffy started to turn away and stopped dead in her tracks. Wait. What had he said?

Giles handed out e-ticket confirmation numbers and the six who were headed for London passed through the metal detectors and waved goodbye one last time to the nine who were staying in LA.

Falling in step close behind her as they walked the last passageway to the plane, Alan whispered in Buffy's ear, "I can't compete with a ghost, luv. But someday I'm gonna make ya love me too."

It occurred to Buffy that someday, he just might.

FIN


End file.
